


The Rise of the Wolf King

by DiamantNoir



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alpha Mark Lee (NCT), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternative Universe - Kingdom, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Best Friends, Blood and Violence, Character Development, Friends to Lovers, Growing Up, Kissing, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Sexual Content, Omega Lee Donghyuck | Haechan, Original Character(s), Running Away, Slow Burn, hints at mpreg, just the parents, lion king inspired, there will be a war scene later on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:54:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 50,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27868761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiamantNoir/pseuds/DiamantNoir
Summary: One day, Mark will be king, but, for right now, he is simply the Crown Prince with so much more to learn.As time transforms him from a little boy with wild dreams to a young man forced into more responsibility—marriage being one of them—Mark soon realizes that being king may not be all he thought it was. And when the world starts turning on him and things start falling apart, he has no idea how to keep it all together.After the death of the king, Mark abandons everyone he loves and leaves his kingdom without a rightful heir.And just when he starts to accept that he will never return, the world decides to yank him back. Mark is the only one who can save his kingdom. A kingdom he believes will never want him as king after they find out what he has done.{A Lion King AU with a twist or two}
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 75
Kudos: 315





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone!  
> Okay, so I'm supposed to be working on my other fic, [To Catch A Pitch](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27217642/chapters/66485683) ...and I am! But this sort of came out of nowhere at the end of Nanowrimo for me and I needed to write it.  
> If you checked the tags, you'll know that this is inspired by Lion King. I mean, we all know that Mark is a little lion cub, so when my friend randomly texted me "Mark is Simba, Renjun is Timon, and Jeno is Pumba" and I realized that Donghyuck HAS to be Nala, I couldn't just not write this. And then it took on a mind of its own, so it definitely differs a bit, if not a lot. But the main points are all there! Even some hints at the lines in the movie ;)  
> I wanted to make them lions, but A/B/O really only works with wolves, hence that change. I also...took some liberties on how A/B/O works in my fic and made it more like an actual wolf pack where wolves can shift positions depending on what's going on and who is with them. They still present as something (alpha, beta, or omega), but they can change titles. Like, they may be a beta to the king, but an alpha at home with their family. I tried to explain it in the fic, but if you have questions, just let me know!  
> There may be more tags added as we go along, so please keep those in mind.  
> Anyway, enough of me ranting. Here we go!  
> I hope you enjoy!!

Ash fills the sky above the mountains. Dark, thick, and unrelenting. Everything above the snow caps is black, shooting up like a giant mushroom. It continues to grow and expand as the people down below in the courtyard watch and point. The guards keep strong in a line around the castle, as if waiting for the ash to drift toward them, along with the threat that caused it in the first place.

From his room in the tallest tower, Mark sees it all. His little fingers grip at the windowsill when he spots his father, dressed in a thick cloak with grey fur, marching out into the courtyard. Advisor Kim follows behind him, vibrating with nervous energy. Mark doesn’t understand what’s happening or why no one is doing anything. He knows beyond the mountains is Iarmos, a place of golden hills and yellow trees. He knows it prospers on heavy harvests and the people who farm them. Last year, on his fifth summer, his father took him to Sol’s Peak just to peer down at it, to show Mark their neighboring kingdom, who was run by Mark’s father’s oldest friend.

Now, it’s nothing but smoke and ash. No gold. Just black and grey. Mark, only six years old, knows that Iarmos no longer sits behind the wall of snowy mountains.

“Whatever are you doing?” his mother calls, rushing to his side to pull him from the window and away from the sight. “You’re supposed to be with Jaemin and Doyoung.”

Mark makes a face. “Jaemin’s with his mama and Doyoung was being no fun. He kept telling me that my ideas were no good.”

“Doyoung is just watching out for you,” she says as she fixes his tunic and brushes out his hair with her fingertips.

“Why should he be the one in charge?”

“Because he’s three years older and, one day, he will be your advisor. Be kind of him, Mark. He is simply trying his best. Come now, little one. Away from the window.”

Mark glances back to see the sky still black over the mountains. “Iarmos—”

“Away from the window, honey,” she coxes. Her hands are strong as she ushers him toward the door, toward his bed—still too big for his tiny body.

About to climb the stool up onto the tall mattress, a horn sounds. It’s loud, echoing through the courtyard and through the walls. Mark can hear it as if it’s right next to him. It swoops and stops, then swoops and stops. He and his mother still, heads twisting toward the window.

Someone is coming.

Before she can stop him, Mark ducks under his mother’s arm and out the door. She calls for him, but he doesn’t stop. Still dressed in his tunic and trousers, feet bare, he rushes through the corridors and down the stairs. The servants and guards leap out of his way as he goes. The stone is cold on his soles and turns to ice as he gets closer to the double doors that lead out into the courtyard.

“Papa!” he calls as he dodges his way around the noble men and women. The cool air of the oncoming winter bites at his skin, at his cheeks. “Papa!”

The tall figure of his father turns. In the briefest of moments, his eyes widen, but he soon catches himself and his expression turns serious. “Mark, you shouldn’t be here. Go back to your mother.”

“But who is coming?” he asks, bouncing on his toes. They’re so cold.

His father’s hand is heavy when it lands on his shoulder and starts to shove him back toward the castle. “Inside, Mark. Master Kim, take my son inside.”

“Of course, your majesty,” Master Kim—Mark’s father’s advisor—says as he starts toward Mark.

Mark shifts out of reach and between the men to peer out into the vast meadow that stretches toward the mountains. Even when he squints, he sees nothing but pale grass on the verge of death and the pinpricks of trees of the forest that runs along the bottom of the mountains. Someone is coming, however, or the horn wouldn’t have sounded.

“Apologies for my tardiness, brother.”

Turning, Mark spots his uncle. While his father is tall with an intimidating figure of broad shoulders and a square jaw, his uncle is slightly shorter, his stature a little thinner. His face is proud in a sharp sort of way, pointed chin and nose. Standing next to each other, the similarities are only somewhat noticeable. Away from each other and it is as if they were hardly blood related at all.

“Seunghwa, where have you been?” his father asks, clearly having abandoned trying to get Mark back into the castle.

“Wandering,” Seunghwa drawls. “I heard the horns. Who is it?”

“Is it the Loup Garou?” inquires Mark, eagerly. For years, he’s heard tales, whispers, of the rebels in the far West. As the stories went, they snuck into villages late into the night and stole everything they could get their hands on while destroying everything else in the process. It’s only theories they would come after the house of a king. Mark wonders if they went after Iarmos and that is what the ash is from.

His father frowns. “Mark, inside, now.”

Hanging his head, he starts toward the doors. He knows there’s only so far he can push his father until he snaps.

“Now, now, Seunghoon,” his uncle says as he catches Mark’s shoulder on his way past. He spins him around and brings him back into his legs. His cloak is warm, his hold strong, and Mark’s toes are very cold, so he rocks into the heat. “Mark is to be king, one day. Let him see whatever is happening out here.”

“Exactly, he will be king, one day. Not this day. For now, he is my son and he will listen to his father. Mark, go find your mother.”

But before Mark can obey, the horn blows. The people in the courtyard fall silent. His father moves to the front with Master Kim at his side. From his spot between his uncle’s robes, Mark can see a black dot in the meadow, heading toward them. Small. Not an army.

Still, the guards that circle the castle, pull their swords and hold up their shields. No matter how small, it could still be a threat.

Mark watches as it draws nearer. A horse with three figures on it. Two adults and one very tiny. Tinier than Mark himself.

“How interesting,” whispers Seunghwa. His fingers flex on Mark, pinning him to his place.

“Lower your weapons!” Seunghoon shouts and the guards do as they’re told. The singular movement clanks together.

A black horse with a man and a woman and a boy. Soot covers their faces, their clothing ruffled and torn. Mark spots the lack of cloaks and furs. He notices the boy only has one boot on. They appear tired and scared and dirty.

“Yeonkuk, my friend, whatever happened?” questions Seunghoon as he moves closer to help them all off the horse. As king, he shouldn’t dare, but Yeonkuk is Mark’s father’s oldest friend, king of Iarmos, and he would help him in a heartbeat.

Yeonkuk’s legs nearly give out as he lands on the ground. His hair is golden, like Iarmos’ meadows. When he turns to help the woman down, and the boy as well, Mark notices that they all have the same color of hair, the same golden skin, as well. They’re gold. Like their kingdom. A kingdom that, judging by their faces, they have lost.

“They came so quickly that we had no time to prepare, no time to react,” Yeonkuk says, words pouring from his lips like a rushing stream. “So quick, Seunghoon.”

“We will talk, but, for now, let us get you inside and warm. Master Kim, set up a room for King Yeonkuk and his family.”

“No,” Yeonkuk says. “Not king. Not anymore. I have no kingdom and, therefore, am no king.”

Seunghoon pauses, eyes swooping over Yeonkuk’s face. Then, he says, “Master Kim, now, please.”

“Of course, your majesty.”

Mark shuffles out of the way as Master Kim bustles past.

“Mark!”

He turns and Seunghwa pushes him forward a little. His father holds out his hand, so Mark moves closer until he’s standing before Yeonkuk, his wife, and his son. Up close, Mark can hardly believe how much they emanate their own lands. The gold stretches even to their eyes, ever so noticeable in the boy’s round gaze that stares almost unblinking back at him.

“This is Donghyuck,” Seunghoon says. “He’s the same age as Jaemin. I want you to look after him during his stay here. Understood?”

Donghyuck clings to his mother’s skirts. Mark can see the way his fingers tremble even though his expression is impassive, closed off and unreadable. Like Mark, he’s a Crown Prince and one should never show fear, even if scared.

“Welcome to Havenfield, Prince Donghyuck of Iarmos,” Mark says, trying his best to sound like the prince his teachers try to instill in him. He even bows in the hopes that it makes him seem like a proper prince, a proper Crown Prince.

Those rounded eyes stare at him beneath tangled golden locks. For a moment, Mark thinks he may not say anything at all. Except, he’s proven otherwise. Donghyuck’s lips part and, in the sweetest voice Mark’s ever heard—even more so than his mother when she sings him to sleep at night—he says, “Well met, Prince Mark of Havenfield.”

And then, he smiles. It’s small, practically unnoticeable beneath the layers of soot that cake his cheeks, but Mark spots it, and he grins back despite the black ash filling the sky, despite the chill blanketing his toes, despite the fall of Iarmos, a whole kingdom of gold and wealth. This boy smiles and Mark decides he must smile, as well.


	2. I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have much to say about this chapter, to be honest. Other then the fact that I love writing little Mark and Donghyuck. They're such cuties.  
> There's also going to be a few time skips throughout the next couple of chapters, so just keep an eye out for that!
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

“I will be an alpha,” Mark announces as he shuffles down the servants’ passageway. It’s tight and dim, but he moves with practiced ease. The passageways are the quickest way through the maze of his own castle. While he’s not supposed to be in them, he and Donghyuck like to use them to try and escape Doyoung, the worrywart that he is.

Behind him, Donghyuck scoffs. “You? You’re more of a beta, don’t you think?”

Mark halts and Donghyuck runs into his back, having no time to stop. Glaring over his shoulder, he says, “I can be an alpha.” He receives a raised brow at that. “I can! Just like I will be king. You have to be one to be king and I’m the only son. So, I will be.”

“You can’t just will it,” Donghyuck tells him, jutting his chin out. “No one can _will_ their presentation. You will be what you will be. Alpha, beta, or omega.”

Wrinkling his nose, Mark mutters, “Omega?”

Donghyuck frowns. “Your mother is an omega.”

“She _was_ an omega. Now, she’s the alpha female.”

“Right, but still an omega, regardless of the title change. Surely it isn’t that bad.”

“Well, no, but an omega can’t rule Havenfield. It’s against the law,” he reminds Donghyuck. He starts forward again. “What do you feel you will be?”

“Who knows,” comes the reply. “I don’t want to think about it. We won’t present for a long while. Why worry about it?”

It’s true, of course. They have many more years to wait. Donghyuck is only in his ninth summer and Mark in his tenth. Even still, his excitement is insurmountable. His father talks about preparing him as a proper Crown Prince sometime in the near future. Soon he will start learning how to fight with a sword and listen in on the council meetings. All he wishes to do is make his father proud, to prove he can be just as good of a king as his father is.

Perhaps, he thinks, Donghyuck doesn’t feel the same because it no longer matters to him. His kingdom was long lost nearly four years ago and his father shortly after from the heartbreak of it all. Now, he only has his mother, and a phantom crown that rests atop his golden curls. He’s a Crown Prince without a kingdom and no people to rule.

Mark can’t imagine what Donghyuck feels on the subject because Donghyuck doesn’t talk about it. He keeps quiet about the whole thing, places a smile on his face and says there is no reason to worry since there is nothing to worry about.

Of course, people still worry. Especially Mark’s father. Because just over the mountains is the camp of rebels, the Loup Garou. Mark’s own kingdom sits on the edge, wondering just when the attack will come up and over the mountains and straight into Havenfield. They will. Everyone knows they will. They just don’t know when.

“Hurry up,” Donghyuck hisses. “Jaemin said to meet him at the kitchens nearly five minutes ago. Why are you so slow?”

“I’m not slow!”

Clicking his tongue, Donghyuck shoves around him. The blue of his tunic is soft like the summer sky and his hair the color of the glowing sun. Mark thinks Donghyuck is summer reincarnated into a chubby cheeked and lanky limbed boy of nine. Bright and inexorable and so warm.

“Race you,” he sings.

Then, he’s running. Mark watches him, for just a second, before realizing that Donghyuck is disappearing around the corner and starts after him. Donghyuck’s laugh rings through the halls, soon mixing in with Mark’s.

A couple of servants going the opposite direction press themselves to the walls for them to slip past. By now, they all know the routine.

Mark’s heart pounds in his chest as they make it to the stairs. He nearly tumbles down them and Donghyuck catches his hand to stop him from taking a header to the stone floor. They laugh about that, too.

When they reach the bottom, a sharp, loud voice stops them.

“Mark! Donghyuck! Get back here!”

“Doyoung,” Donghyuck gasps. His hand tightens on Mark’s, warm and a little sweaty.

Doyoung rounds the corner, appearing at the top of the steps. His pale face is flushed with red, his chest heaving, and his black hair windswept. He spots them almost immediately and glowers.

“You two—”

“Run!” Donghyuck shouts.

Mark bolts, towing Donghyuck with him by his hand. They zip through the halls, this way and that, until finally pushing open a door and escaping into the main corridors. Mark has to twist to avoid tripping on a noble woman’s skirts.

He only knows so many places to go in this wing of the castle, having spent most of his time in all the others, but he does know one particular place. So, he yanks Donghyuck through the halls until he spots a doorway next to a tapestry with a black horse and snowcapped mountains in the background. Quickly, he swings it open and shoves them both inside.

The staircase down is winding and steep. The torches on the wall cast the place in an orange glow. The dungeons can be accessed from all kinds of points in the castle. Mark knows this one because it’s the closest to his uncle’s den.

Over the years, Seunghwa started to keep himself farther and farther from all the others in the castle. As the second born, he’s not entitled to much. Some lands here and there, but he would never be king. Mark took that from him. Even still, even though he hardly shows for dinners or balls, he allows Mark into his den and talks to him.

Once, Mark asked him if he was lonely and Seunghwa had told him that he had no need to be with Mark around. As odd as he is, he loves his uncle.

“Is he even down here?” Donghyuck asks, knowing exactly where they’re going without even questioning it. He never comes with Mark to visit Seunghwa, but Mark has told him the way there countless of times.

“I think so,” he replies.

The cool, damp air of the dungeons sticks to his skin uncomfortably. It’s not a welcoming place, nor is it a place Mark is really supposed to be, but he pushes forward, nevertheless. Donghyuck’s fingers lace with his, a sign that he is worried and that he trusts Mark even still. 

At the end of the hall, the door is closed. It’s wooden and somewhat warped. When Mark knocks on it, the hinges creak. From inside, he can hear the sound of heavy footsteps just before the door opens.

Seunghwa’s eyes flick to Mark and then to Donghyuck. Slowly, so slowly, a smirk graces his lips. “Ah, my dear nephew and his friend. To what to I owe the honor?”

“Can we hide out here for a while, Uncle?” he asks.

The door opens wider and he takes that as a sign to come in. He tugs Donghyuck into the room. It’s dark and slightly cramped. Dampness clings to the stone walls. Candles light the room, casting sharp shadows across the walls and furniture. The dark wood of Seunghwa’s desk and book shelves is almost black and the floors are a dull grey. Mark remembers the first time he entered the room and thought how very ominous it was. Now, it’s a darkness he has come to find a comfort in, especially when the fire is roaring and his uncle calls for the sweets from the kitchen for him to steal.

He and Donghyuck head over to the sofa near the fireplace and curl up among the cushions. Closing the door, Seunghwa makes his way to the desk and sits down, linking his fingers together under his chin. His dark eyes study them from across the room.

“And why, may I ask, are you hiding? Or should I inquire on whom are you hiding from?”

“Doyoung,” Mark tells him. “He’s becoming more of a bore as he ages. He wouldn’t let me practice my sparring skills.”

Donghyuck rolls himself into one of the furs on the back of the sofa. He looks cozy and warm as he sticks his head out from between the ends. “To be fair, you wanted to do it without supervision.”

“Whose side are you on?” he argues.

The response he gets is a shrug. No more.

“Perhaps your friend is in the right,” Seunghwa says, leaning back in his chair. “We can’t have you getting hurt. Not our Crown Prince. Whatever would we do if something were to happen to you?”

“Nothing will,” Mark replies. He tugs on the furs Donghyuck’s wrapped around himself until an end is given up and he can crawl in, too. Their knees knock together. “One day, I’ll be king.”

Seunghwa’s eyes narrow as a smile curls upon his lips. “Yes, of course.”

A finger pokes his cheek and he twists his head around to find Donghyuck’s face so close. He smells like summer, Mark thinks. Grinning, Donghyuck says, “Not for ages, though. Your father will rule and then you’ll be an old man when you sit on the throne finally.”

“And by then you will have a wife and children,” adds Seunghwa. His eyes flick to Donghyuck. “Or husband.”

Mark contorts his face something akin to disgust and presses himself into Donghyuck’s side until Donghyuck squeaks and shoves him away. The cool air brushes against his skin too fast. In a haste to get warm, he leans back into the furs until Donghyuck is curled up beside him. The fire burns behind them, crackling in the silence of the room.

“I don’t want a wife or a husband,” Mark sniffs.

“Well, as king, it is to be expected.”

He mutters, “That’s the first thing that will go.”

Donghyuck giggles into the furs.

“When I’m king, people will have fun and they will never have to worry about anything.”

From his desk, Seunghwa rolls his gaze up to the ceiling and breathes, “How exciting.”

“I’ll be a brave king, too,” he adds, sitting up on his knees until the furs fall from his shoulders. They fall from Donghyuck’s, as well, who whines at the inconvenience.

“You have a long way to go then,” says Donghyuck. “You can barely lift your sword.”

“I can lift it!”

“Then why did you drop it when you were in lesson yesterday?”

He frowns. “My hand slipped.”

“Oh, how threatening you are,” Donghyuck sings, rolling backward in to the cushions.

Growling, Mark jumps on him. They grapple, hands flying and feet kicking. Beneath him, Donghyuck laughs. He shoves particularly hard and Mark drops off the sofa, nearly missing the coffee table on the way down. The air is knocked out of his lungs when Donghyuck lands on top of him, fur blanket coming down around them.

“Now, now, boys,” Seunghwa says as he remains at his desk. “Be careful. You wouldn’t want to hurt the future king, now, would you, Donghyuck?”

Donghyuck sits up, still perched atop of Mark, and glances back with a wide smile on his face. “He deserves it if he can’t even fight back properly.”

“Hey!” Mark reaches up to grab a fistful of Donghyuck’s hair.

Just then, the door swings open. Doyoung practically collapses on the threshold, appearing entirely out of breath. He sucks in deep gasps of air before spotting Mark and Donghyuck on the floor. He glares behind his glasses.

“Off the floor! What are you? Wild beasts? You’re both princes. Act like it!” he shouts from the door.

“Ah, young Master Kim’s boy,” says Seunghwa, gaining Doyoung’s attention.

Blood drains from Doyoung’s face and his snaps up, spine going as straight as a board. “Oh, um, Prince Seunghwa. I apologize for bursting in. I came to find Mark and Donghyuck.”

“I see.”

Mark watches as Doyoung inches back from the door into the corridor as if terrified Seunghwa may pounce. Although, he’s not sure why. His uncle wouldn’t hurt a fly. And, yet, there Doyoung is—a beanpole of a boy, only thirteen—acting as if Seunghwa were some kind of vicious predator. 

Still pale, Doyoung snaps his fingers and says, “Come now, Mark, Donghyuck. Jaemin is waiting and your mothers won’t want to hear you were down in the dungeons again.”

“We were with uncle,” Mark points out, even though he does as he’s told and stands, helping Donghyuck to his feet in the process. “It wasn’t like we were in trouble.”

“Very good point, nephew,” says Seunghwa. “Wouldn’t you say, Doyoung?”

“Oh, uh,” Doyoung swallows, “yes, of course, your highness. I apologize again.”

Standing from the desk. Seunghwa says, “No need. No harm done.”

“Right.” As soon as Mark and Donghyuck are close enough, Doyoung reaches out to take them by the arms and pull them into the hall with him. “Goodbye, your highness.”

Seunghwa meanders over. “Goodbye, indeed.”

Without another word, the door shuts.

Doyoung lets out a heavy sigh before shoving them toward the stairs. “Honestly. Can’t you two listen for once in your lives? There are rules!”

“Rules are boring,” Mark replies. “I’m getting rid of those, too, when I’m king.”

“If you keep breaking them, you won’t make it to being king,” snaps Doyoung. “Now, up the stairs and to the kitchens. You’re both going to make me go grey before I’m twenty.”

But Mark isn’t listening. His mind is spinning with possibilities. Endless ideas of less restrictions and more fun and opportunities. He knows it will be a long while until he’s crowned king, but when he does, he expects to make the best and the most out of it.

As they climb the stairs, Donghyuck smirks at him. His golden hair is sticking up all over from their wrestling match.

Yes, he thinks, he will be one of the great kings. He will be sure to show Donghyuck that he can be brave and benevolent, to grow up and be fearless and loved. Just like his father and all his ancestors before him.

He can’t wait to be king.

*

There is one thing Mark picks up on, over his time knowing Donghyuck, and that’s that Donghyuck is naturally gifted at things. Even on the first try, even if it’s a little rusty, he still manages to make things work in his favor.

He learns to make a horse run and jump before Mark can. When he’s finally able to pick up a sword on his tenth year, he lasts so much longer than Mark did the first time he tried. Donghyuck is a natural, while Mark has to be determined and diligent until he can master anything.

He wonders, if Donghyuck had the chance, if he would be a natural Crown Prince far faster than Mark would be. Would he pick up the rules, the regulation, the etiquette in one fell swoop? Of course, Donghyuck is still a prince and he shows so much more grace and poise than Mark does on most days, but he doesn’t need to learn what Mark does because he has no kingdom to look after anymore. Mark envies him on most days.

During his twelfth year, on one of the hottest summer days, he’s out on the grounds, next to the archery runs, learning from Master Dong. He’s a strong man with a too-serious face and a scar above his eyebrow that puckers the skin there. Ever since Mark was taught how to hold a sword, Master Dong has been his teacher. Straight to the point and never one for coddling, he teaches Mark from the ground up.

Donghyuck, to no one’s surprise, is swift to get everything the first or second try. He watches from under the tree, the sun beating down on them so hard that Mark is beading with sweat that stings his eyes and makes his grip difficult to keep on his sword.

He swings high and a little wide. Master Dong catches the hilt of his blade and sends it flying into the dirt. Mark so desperately wants to stomp his foot and scream. That’s the eleventh time he’s been bested in the last half hour. He doesn’t, however, and goes to pick up his sword. Master Dong will not allow him to act like a child.

“Again,” Mark says, gritting his teeth.

Master Dong is a beta to the king, but an alpha to his troops. He’s one of many within Havenfield to have two positions depending on their company. Mark’s father is one of the lucky ones. He presented as an alpha and will stay an alpha. His mother, born omega, and chosen to lead with the king. Therefore, giving her the title of Alpha Female. While a title can change for most people inside Havenfield, a Crown Prince is not afforded those comforts. No, Mark must present as an alpha to become king, to show that he is strong enough to become the leader of the kingdom even from the very start. It’s a system Havenfield flourishes over. The titles shift and change, but it works.

Iarmos, according to Donghyuck’s mother, had been similar. Although, Mark’s been told that there are places where, once presented, a person will remain that title until their death. He can’t imagine that. Then again, once he presents as an alpha—and he will—he will remain one until he’s buried deep within the earth and becoming one with it. So, he really has no say.

And then there’s Donghyuck. He will present and then what will happen with him? Part of Mark hopes that maybe Donghyuck will become a beta, like Master Dong. He can be a second-in-command, a person Mark can rely on to get the job done. Maybe even take over the troops once Master Dong retires, if Donghyuck wishes to become a knight, at all.

Donghyuck doesn’t speak about his future. He barely speaks about his past. Even still, he and Mark are best friends and Mark, even if he is bested by someone younger than him in everything they do, doesn’t want to be without him.

His sword goes flying and Master Dong smacks him on the hip with the flat of his sword. It hurts and he yelps. Donghyuck hides a laugh behind his hand.

“Get your head out of the clouds,” Master Dong orders. “Pay attention or you will lose a limb. Or worse, your head.”

Grunting, Mark goes to pick up his sword. He’s swatted in the behind, causing him to jump. “Hey!”

“And don’t turn your back on your opponent, either. No matter what the circumstances.”

“I think you just enjoy hitting me,” Mark points out. The sword is heavy in his hand, the metal hot.

Master Dong doesn’t say a word, but he does smirk. Mark knows that the time is drawing near where it will soon come time to stop. Even if he wishes to keep going, to try and succeed in disarming Master Dong like Donghyuck had hours ago, he will have to stop at some point. His body is aching, growing pains mingling with the workout. Tomorrow, he will hate himself for continuing. For now, he wants to finish the task.

He raises his sword. “Again.”

Before he can take a swing, however, a voice calls out from behind him. Doyoung comes running down the path from the castle.

“We’re practicing,” Master Dong says, rather gruffly.

Doyoung pays him no mind. “Your father,” he gasps as he comes to a stop, “would like to see you in his study.”

Mark exchanges a curious glance with Donghyuck. Then, he asks, “Right now?”

“No, sometime tonight—Yes, right now! I didn’t come running for nothing,” Doyoung huffs.

“Go, don’t keep the king waiting,” Master Dong says. Then, he points to Donghyuck. “You, up. We have steps to go over.”

Quick to his feet, Donghyuck rushes over. He knocks Mark’s shoulder with his own and smiles. “ _Oh_ , you’re in trouble.”

He shoves him away. “I hope you get smacked by a sword.”

“How rude,” says Donghyuck. “And I barely laughed when you got bested. Twelve times in a row, might I add.”

“Why am I friends with you?”

“Because you would be hopeless without me.”

Mark thinks that’s a bit dramatic, but he doesn’t argue. Donghyuck would surely say something smart and Mark will have no answer to give him. He isn’t quick like that. Although, he wishes he was. Sometimes, he wishes he could best Donghyuck. Just once. Prove that he can be better.

Dropping his sword next to the tree, Mark follows after Doyoung. They travel up the path and into the castle where the heat can’t reach them. Inside is cooler, the torches unlit to keep the temperature down. There are noble women and men moving through the halls, visitors and permanent residences alike. Some of the older gentlemen gathered near the entrance are some Mark remembers are on the council. No matter who they are, they all bow to him as he passes.

He wonders what they think of him. If they think he will be as good as a king as he hopes he will be. He’s still only in his twelfth year with so much more to prove, so much more potential to show, but he knows he can do it. He hopes they can see it, as well.

The two of them make their way through the corridors, winding left and right and up, until they finally end up at the den Mark’s father uses the most. He likes it because it views out toward the mountains. The ones Mark remembers having black ash cover for days on end. The same mountains that lead into territory he has never been able to see since he was very, very young.

Sometimes, he thinks about going there. Just to take a peek. However, whenever a collection of guards come back from scoping out what used to be known as Iarmos, the results are always the same. The Loup Garou are still there. They have taken over and ruined it. It’s gold no longer, according to those who have seen it. Only grey and black and full of rubble. The castle itself has apparently started to crumble. How they have lived like that for so long, Mark will never know.

His father keeps him away from it all. No unnecessary information. All he knows is that Iarmos is long gone and he must stay away from the forest and the mountains, and especially what is over them.

Hesitantly, he knocks on the door. His father’s voice drifts through the wood, telling him to come in. Inside, King Seunghoon sits at his desk, quill in hand. The fireplace remains unlit. Sunlight filters in from the window on the opposite wall, brightening the room and making it shine. Everything is gold and red and warm.

His nose is not as great as it will be when he presents, but he can detect his father’s scent easily. Just like his mother’s. The two people closest to him, other than Donghyuck, who he could locate with a single sniff, like a pup to its parent. The room smells of pine and the moment Winter starts to melt into Spring. It’s a comfort in Mark’s mind, when it’s so clear and palpable like it is, right now.

Glancing up from the papers before him, Seunghoon smiles and gestures him to come closer. “Thank you, Doyoung. You may go.”

Doyoung bows deeply and scurries out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

“Am I in trouble?” Mark can’t help but ask. While he may have laughed Donghyuck’s remark off, that doesn’t mean it hadn’t wiggled itself into his mind. His father doesn’t call on him often. Not like this. Not so formally. Surely, this means something very important or he is very much in trouble. He hopes it’s the former.

A low laugh escapes his father’s mouth and Mark’s shoulders automatically relax. It’s a happy sound. “No, of course not.” He stands and rounds the desk. “Master Dong has told me your lessons are going well.”

Mark digs his heel into the hardwood. “I guess. Donghyuck is better.”

“Is he? I’m not surprised. He has his father’s blood. Yeonkuk was always so skillful with a blade. I never once enjoyed sparring with him. It was always hard to tell who would end up without a sword at the end, and it was usually me.”

His lips pop open in surprise. “He could best you?”

“Quite often,” his father replies, eyes sparkling in the sun. They get that way when he thinks about Yeonkuk and his memories of the past. As if it isn’t sad, but something to still laugh at. He would much rather celebrate life than mourn death. “Even a king can admit his defeat.”

It seems so hard to believe because his father is one of the strongest men in the kingdom. As an alpha, he carries that immense strength with him. Mark has watched his father take down opponent after opponent in the training rooms and in the courts. To think someone could take a sword from his hand seems surreal, in all respects.

Leaning against his desk, his father crooks a finger and Mark shuffles forward. He believes why people feel intimidated by his father. He’s a broad man with a towering height and a serious face on most occasions. He’s not afraid to bark orders or dole out punishment to those who deserve it. But Mark has never seen him that way.

He’s always been a gentle father and a funny man. Memories of him on all fours while Mark rode on his back, pretending to be knight going to rescue the princess on his noble steed, or when his father would sneak into his room, late at night, after getting home from helping at the borders, and whispering goodnight rise into Mark’s mind. Even as king, he recognized his responsibility as a father and Mark would be a fool not to realize it right back.

“Doyoung says you keep going missing inside the servant halls,” Seunghoon says with a raise of his brow. The corner of his lips twitch. “I thought we had discussed that.”

“We did,” Mark tells him. “You said to stay out of the way, so I used the less frequented ones.”

Shaking his head, his father says, “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Is it not? You should be clearer, Papa.”

“Donghyuck’s sneakiness has been rubbing off on you, hasn’t it?”

Ducking his head to hide his smile, he says, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Papa.”

“I’m sure you don’t,” his father snorts. So unkingly, yet so much like his father. “Do you know why I called you?”

That makes Mark raise his head, eyebrows furrowed and mouth slightly parted. He studies the way his father smiles, soft and warm, and then shakes his head. “No.”

“Come with me.”

He follows quietly behind as his father opens up the glass doors to the balcony off his study. The hot air of summer settles against his skin once again, the sun burning into his pores. Stepping up to the edge, he peers down. From here, he can see part of the gardens before they disappear around one of the towers, as well as the path that leads down to the archery runs. He can’t see Master Dong or Donghyuck from this point, but he knows they’re there, around the corner, probably still practicing until they’re dripping with sweat and red from the sun. His eyes drift farther past the castle ground, sifting through the meadow to the forest to the mountain peaks. So much land.

“One day, you will be king, Mark,” Seunghoon says, placing a hand on Mark’s shoulder. “You will lead all of this and so much more. I have allowed you to live your childhood, as you should, but it is coming to a time where we must prepare you. I would like you to come with me to council meetings, watch how they work, and I would like to take you on more border patrols.”

Mark looks up, heart leaping. “Really? Truly?”

“You are Crown Prince. You should know your lands and your people. I don’t see why you should not come with me.”

Smiling, he grips at the railing and leans into the warm air. “I will be king of all this?”

“The markets, the farms, the people with the castle. Everything in the valley up until the edge of the mountains, of course.”

Eyeing the snowcapped mountains, Mark asks, “Our lands go to the edge?”

Seunghoon’s gaze darkens as it follows Mark’s. “When King Yeonkuk was in charge of Iarmos, it was until the peaks. With the Loup Garou having taken control, we have given them a wider berth then I believe they deserve.” He sighs. “But, it’s for the safety of the people and that comes before all else.”

“Do you not go up there? To see what they are doing? Should we not be trying to take it back? What about Donghyuck?” The questions flow from his tongue until his father’s hand on his shoulder squeezes gently, causing him to fumble to a stop, cheeks pink.

“Relax, dear boy. We have plans, of course, but this is nothing we should rush into. You must stay as far away from there as possible. For now, Donghyuck is in good hands. You make sure to watch after him, yes?”

Mark nods. “Yes, Papa.”

“Good.” He opens his mouth, ready to say something else, when a knock comes at the door. He steps back into the study and calls out, “Come in.”

Master Kim rushes in all red faced and out of breath. “I apologize, your majesty, but there seems to be some trouble on at the Southern Border.”

“Loup Garou?” he inquires, back going straight and alert. He reaches for his cloak.

“They have been spotted edging closer to Loch Tay. No attacks, yet, but it’s only a matter of time.”

“Say no more,” Seunghoon says, cutting him off. He starts for the door before turning to Mark and saying, “We will have to continue our talk later.”

Mark moves toward him. “Can’t I come with you?”

“Not this time. Next time. I promise. Be good, keep out of trouble. I’ll be back before you know it.”

His father is out the door before Mark can put in another word, leaving him alone in the study. Sighing, he decides to go back to Donghyuck and Master Dong. If he won’t be doing much else with his father, he might as well continue practicing. Except, when he steps into the corridor, he nearly runs right into his uncle.

Seunghwa gazes down his nose at him. “My, and where are you off to?”

“Back to the grounds to spar,” he explains as his shoulders droop. “Papa ran off to help at the borders. Loup Garou were spotted there.”

“I see.”

“He’s going to show me the kingdom. I’ll get to go with him next time he leaves.”

His uncle raises his brows. “Truly exciting.”

“It is,” he agrees with an eager nod. “I’ll get to go to council meetings and learn how to be a real Crown Prince. He was showing me the borders, too. I was hoping he would take me to see them, but I doubt he will. At least not the borders into Iarmos. He said I can’t go there.”

“And too right he is,” Seunghwa says with a strong nod. “It’s far too dangerous for a boy such as yourself. Only the bravest men will travel those lands.”

Frowning, Mark crosses his arms over his chest and says, “I’m brave.”

“Of course, you are, dear nephew,” says Seunghwa as he wraps an arm around Mark’s shoulders and yanks him into his side. “One of the bravest men I have ever met. But the Ashen Peaks are not for a Crown Prince to be. Promise me you will never go there. Not without your father present. We wouldn’t want something to happen to you, would we?”

It seems rather unfair that he be promised the official duties of a Crown Prince, to take on more responsibility, yet to hold him back. The border into Iarmos might be dangerous, but Mark is a prince and he will be king, eventually. To keep him from seeing everything his kingdom has to offer seems wrong, like they are still treating him as if he’s a child. He may be only twelve, but he isn’t a baby. He knows how to take care of himself.

Still, he will never be able to prove that unless they gave him a chance. Or, if he tried to show them himself. An idea clicks in his mind, like a lit candle wick, and Mark bites at his lip to keep himself from smiling.

He would just need to show his father that he can do just as a king can, just like the brave officers that climb those peaks bi-monthly to report back their findings.

“As you wish, Uncle,” Mark lies and Seunghwa lets him go. “I will keep away.”

“That’s my boy. You keep safe, now. Let the older ones deal with the Loup Garou. You have many other duties to take care of.”

He spins on his heel and says, “You’re right! I shall do what needs to be done. Bye, Uncle!”

Without another word, he rushes off down the hall to find Donghyuck because, if anyone were to go with him into Iarmos, it would need to be their prince.


	3. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark and Donghyuck get into a little bit of trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thursday, everyone! Here's Chapter Two!  
> I'm really happy that people are enjoying this so far. Hopefully, you'll like what's to come! <3

It took several minutes to realize that Donghyuck was no longer with Master Dong and was, in fact, back in his chambers with his mother. However, when he arrives, he only finds his mother sitting in the entrance room with Donghyuck’s mother. Donghyuck, himself, is nowhere to be seen. Upon spotting her son, Mark’s mother holds out her hand to him and he rushes over to take it.

“Where is Donghyuck?” he asks, bouncing on his toes.

His mother smiles at him. “Having a bath. As you should, as well. You look as if you were rolling in the dirt.”

“Master Dong is savage.”

“Mark, be kind.”

“He is a very wonderful savage?” he attempts. Donghyuck’s mother snorts behind the back of her hand. “I came to see Donghyuck.”

Trying to brush the dried mud from Mark’s hair and tunic, his mother says, “He should be out soon. You can wait with us”

Mark jerks away when she licks her thumb and tries to rub at a spot on his face. “It’s all right. I’ll just go in.”

“Mark!”

But he’s already racing through the entrance into Donghyuck’s bedroom and to the door of the bathroom. It’s not much unlike Mark’s, though it faces out toward the town instead of the Ashen Peaks that block the view of Iarmos. When Mark had asked about the view, his mother simply told him that it might be better to keep Donghyuck from constantly facing what he had gone through, his terrifying escape from a kingdom conquer.

The canopy bed is freshly made, the sheets and comforter pressed and clean. A small seating area is placed before an unlit fire, and a painting of birds flying over the mountains is hung over the mantel. Unlike Mark’s room, gold and red like most of the kingdom around him, Donghyuck’s room is muted tones of bronze, gold, and blues. Everything is pristine and calm. He can smell the heat of the summer and the stickiness of honey on every surface in the room that so clearly tells him this is Donghyuck’s space, his home.

Eagerly, he bangs his fist on the wooden door. “Donghyuck!”

There’s a splash from the other side, as if the water has spilled over the edges. Then, Donghyuck’s voice rings out, a little startled and a tad bit higher than normal. “Mark, I’m bathing!”

“I know,” he says with a shrug, even though Donghyuck can’t see him. “Hurry up! I have a place I want to take you.”

“A place?”

“Yes, so hurry!”

He misses the sound of his and Donghyuck’s mother stepping into the room and he startles when he hears the voice of his mother asking, “And what kind of place are you showing him?”

Stilling, he glances over to her and says, “Just…the lake.”

“The lake?” Donghyuck shouts from the bathroom. “What’s so great about the lake?”

“I’ll tell you when we get there!” he calls back, kicking at the door. There’s another splash.

His mother raises her eyebrows, lips twitching. “You have duties to attend to.”

“Can’t I do them later? This is important,” he pleads. No sound comes from the other side of the door, so he leans in and asks, “Are you alive? Come on, Hyuck!”

“Go away!” is the response.

Groaning, Mark throws up his hands. Donghyuck’s mother simply laughs and sits on the sofa to watch. Mark’s own mother hovers at the doorway with her arms crossed. He knows she doesn’t believe him, however, she also has no way of knowing where he actually wants to go, so he thinks he might be safe for now. Still, if Donghyuck doesn’t hurry up, they won’t have time to explore.

So, he exhales sharply through his nose and throws open the door.

Donghyuck, still in the tub, yelps. He draws his knees to his chest, cheeks flaming red—possibly from the heat of the room, Mark thinks—and shouts, “Get out!”

“You take too long in those baths,” he points out. “Are you coming? We don’t have all day.”

Pressing his knees closer, Donghyuck glares at him. “I’m not getting out until you leave.”

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Because it’s true. When they were even younger, they had gone swimming, having to strip down because neither of them had brought extra clothes and they knew they would need something dry to walk home in, and sometimes they even bathed together. They had never really had much issue with it, both being boys. Mark never thought Donghyuck would get so bashful about it after everything.

“Mark, leave the poor boy alone,” his mother says, stepping up behind him and yanking him from the room. “Let him get ready for you to drag him gods know where.”

The door closes with a soft click. He can hear the splash of water and rustle of clothes. When it opens back up, Donghyuck stands there still slightly dripping, his tunic growing wet around the collar from the ends of his hair. His mother beckons him and he pushes past Mark to sit before her, where she ruffles his hair with a towel.

“So, the lake?” inquires Donghyuck’s mother, glancing back over her shoulder to smile at Mark. “What’s at the lake?”

“Um,” he swallows, eyes shifting to his mother and then to Donghyuck’s mother and then finally to Donghyuck, himself, who peers at him from under the edges of the towel, “just, you know, uh—”

“Can we go?” asks Donghyuck as he lifts on his knees to lean on his mother’s lap. “Please, Mama?”

His anxiety in having to possibly lie floats out of his body as Donghyuck’s mother looks at Mark’s mother with a soft grin and says, “I have no problem with it. Nayeon?”

“All right,” his mother sighs and Mark leaps with a whoop. “But only if you bring Doyoung.”

Both he and Donghyuck visibly sink. “No, why?”

“Because I’m not letting my little boy go wandering off without supervision,” his mother says and Mark pouts because, no, he’s not a little boy. “Besides, as much as the lake is a relatively safe place, I don’t trust you being that close to the dam. The last thing I want to happen is you getting reckless and having it break, washing you away. So, do your poor, worrisome mother a favor and take Doyoung with you.”

Mark grumbles, but he does as he’s told. It isn’t as if he could convince his mother otherwise. So, he and Donghyuck meet Doyoung at one of the back exits to the castle and trudge their way to the stables. Doyoung needles away at them, explaining that they will go to the lake for only an hour or two before returning back to the castle for dinner. A dinner, Mark knows, his father will be absent for. He wonders what has happened on the Southern borders, if his father is fighting back the Loup Garou or if they were simply called as a precaution.

Even though Havenfield worries about a possible attack, it isn’t hard to see that the Loup Garou are scared of Mark’s father and his army. While it isn’t quite clear why, he has heard the council members say that it’s because Havenfield’s forces are larger. Mark thinks that, perhaps, that is true considering the Southern and Eastern kingdom created an alliance with Havenfield after the downfall of Iarmos, allowing the access to their own armies should something happen. And it will, eventually. Havenfield is the closest to Iarmos’s borders, which makes it the easiest target.

Mark follows the line of the mountain peaks and frowns. It takes only an hour or two to travel over the meadow to the forest that grows at the bottom on horseback at a steady pace—he remembers Yeonkuk riding at high speed with his wife and son behind him, toward Mark’s castle, and cutting that time in half. However, through the forest and up the mountain takes over a day. It’s a little less than a three days to get to the castle of Iarmos, known as Dyserth, once the border is crossed at the peaks. If they are diligent enough, if they move the horses fast enough, they could make it to the bottom of the mountain by the time evening hits. While he may not make it up the mountain, he can at least try to get as close as he can to see what resides there. 

Their horses are already waiting for them by the time they arrive. Donghyuck is up before Mark can even make it to his own mare. She steadies herself as he climbs on, gripping the reins and nudging her toward where Doyoung and Donghyuck wait for him.

The three of them steadily make their way toward the lake. It isn’t exactly the direction he wishes to be going. In fact, it is nearly the opposite, but they have to appease Doyoung, somehow. And then, ditch him.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going? I’m assuming not the lake?” Donghyuck inquires, steering his horse toward Mark’s so they can canter side by side. Like most things, Donghyuck is a natural rider. Mark thinks he looks far too regal for someone of eleven. The sun sets his hair off like a golden beacon and Mark can’t seem to stop himself from looking even if it burns his eyes.

“Ashen Peaks,” he mutters. He tries to be loud enough for Donghyuck to hear over the sound of hooves, but not enough for Doyoung, who rides ahead of them, to hear.

Donghyuck’s eyes widen. “What? Are you mad? We can’t go there.”

“We won’t go all the way up. Just to the edge of the mountain,” he says. “Don’t you want to at least see what you can of your kingdom?”

Clicking his tongue, Donghyuck shakes his head and says, “It isn’t my kingdom anymore. Besides, even if we go, I wouldn’t see it. We would need to make it up the mountain. Why would you even think of going there in the first place?”

“My father doesn’t think I’m ready to face the troubles on the borders, but he wants me to be the Crown Prince. A Crown Prince knows the troubles of his kingdom and attends to it,” he explains. “How is he ever going to believe I’m capable of doing the responsibility if he won’t even let me face the Loup Garou?”

“They are a danger, Mark. We go and there will be severe punishment. You know that, don’t you?”

“When were you ever one to pass up a little risk?” he teases and Donghyuck shakes his head again. “Come on, Hyuck. Come with me? They aren’t in the forest. I want to get as close as I can. To prove myself.”

“I still don’t get what exactly you’re trying to prove if you aren’t even going to go up the mountain,” retorts Donghyuck.

Mark jerks his chin at Doyoung. “We won’t have time to climb the mountain since we have to lead him to the lake and then, somehow, runaway from him. We only have time to get as close as possible. It’s a little adventure. No harm and a lot of fun.”

“Why do I let you talk me into these things?”

Smiling, he says, “Think of it as you repaying me for all the times I let you talk me into gods know what. Deal?”

Donghyuck’s eyes twinkle. “Deal.”

“And just what are you two planning back there?” Doyoung calls from up ahead. He pulls his horse to a stop to let them catch up.

“Nothing,” Mark replies, quickly. “Just discussing the lake and how nice a day it is.”

Doyoung narrows his gaze, studying them both. “You both are such trouble. Gods help this kingdom if you two ever get married.”

Beside him, Donghyuck chokes—on air or his own spit, Mark doesn’t know, and he doesn’t seek to find out because his face flames and he would much rather not look at Donghyuck right at the moment.

Stuttering, he says, “W-What? Me? Donghyuck? Married? What an awful joke, Doyoung.”

“It wasn’t a joke,” he states, starting up his horse again. “If one of you becomes an alpha and one an omega, you will be married. The alliance was set before you both were even born. Of course, there are no guarantees. Other arrangements are in place just in case there is another turn of events. You may both very well turn out to be alphas or one a beta. You won’t need to worry about it for now. Not until you both present.”

Mark grips at his reins, so hard his knuckles whiten. Marry Donghyuck? Gods forbid. Donghyuck is too much like family, a best friend. To marry him would be—Well, it would be awkward.

Regardless, he shouldn’t have anything to worry about. There is an extremely high probability that Donghyuck and he will end up both alphas given the situation and their families. While those don’t always mean a specific sub-gender, it can help, and Mark would like to believe that it helps quite a lot, especially when he looks back at his family tree to see a long line of presented alphas.

It’s difficult, of course. Monarchies aren’t given the same guidelines as the rest of their country. While there are chances of a beta or even—often rarely—an omega to become a higher rank, or for an alpha to be demoted—especially to a king—the Crown Prince must be an alpha to ascend the throne. Any partner he receives must be a beta female or an omega of any gender. Then, they will rise to his alpha mate status. This much Mark understands.

Still, he worries. If he doesn’t become an alpha, the throne will no longer be his. He will have to step aside for someone else. A cousin, a relative he has never met, or who ever else the council pick. Mark will have to retire his crown and he just doesn’t think he can do that. That is why this trip is so important. He must show what he can do, as much as he can do, if only to prove his worth so much more than he is now.

Willing his flush to go away, Mark says, “Who would want to get married, anyway?”

“As a Crown Prince, and even a king, it is important for you to continue the line,” Doyoung tells him as he glances back at him. “To create an heir.”

This time, Mark chokes and Donghyuck’s horse stutters, almost jolting off the road. He isn’t naïve enough to not understand what that means, the implications behind it, how it works. But to think he would need to do that. And, possibly, with Donghyuck of all people. His heart gives a particularly hard thump against his chest.

He shakes his head a little too hard, hair flying every which way. Once he’s gathered himself enough, still very red, he’s sure of it, he points at Donghyuck and demands, “You want me create an heir with Donghyuck?”

Doyoung laughs. Mark feels utterly betrayed. “Only if you marry him, Mark. Not before. Gods, you are still such a child.”

Bristling, he mutters to Donghyuck, “Remind me to fire him as my advisor once I’m king.”

No response comes. He looks over to find Donghyuck’s face very red, like he’s holding his breath. Eyes downturned on his hands, and his posture slightly slumped, Donghyuck follows along the road as if in a trance. Mark steers his horse close enough to poke him. Startling, Donghyuck nearly tumbles from the saddle, but Mark grips his arm and yanks him straight.

“Don’t pay any attention to him,” he says, quietly. “He just likes to taunt because we make his life miserable. Don’t worry, the chances of us actually having to get married and do all that is slim, yes?”

Donghyuck gazes up at him, brown eyes round and cheeks still flushed pink. He gives a short, jerk of a nod and says, “Yes. Yes, of course. Slim. Yes.”

Eyebrows pulling together in a frown, Mark opens his mouth to ask him if he really is all right, but Doyoung cuts him off to announce that they are almost to the lake. He decides to let Donghyuck gather himself. Mark thinks he might need that time, as well.

The lake, itself, is fairly large, though not as large as the ones Donghyuck remembers from Iarmos, a place close to the coast of the ocean, with lakes that could rival Mark’s own castle. The water glitters like sapphires in the sun. Around it, people gather with buckets and horse-drawn carts. All from the village farther north. Visiting the lake is the only time Mark has ever gotten a chance to speak with the people of his lands without a crown on his head. He’s actually rather surprised his mother didn’t send him with a circle of guards.

From the lake stems a river that hardly moves. It runs through the land that climbs up high around it, cutting through a forest, and right between two mountainsides and into the ocean. Mark has never been allowed to follow it because it leads over their borders, but, one day, he would like to. He would love to see the ocean, to follow along the beaches Donghyuck tries to remember as time ticks by.

All he knows is that there is a dam farther down if he stares down the center of the lake and through the tall walls of ground on either side. It was built to keep the lake from growing too big and taking over the farm lands. His mother dislikes the thought of him going near it, mainly because it’s older. But Mark thinks that it has held up for long enough that she needn’t worry so much. Even still, he has never been close enough to inspect it. Doyoung, or whoever is with him at the time, generally keeps him away, more in fear of his mother than his life, he would imagine.

“I doubt we’ll need to spend too much time here,” Doyoung announces as he slides off his horse and holds out a hand for Donghyuck. “It’s far too busy for this to be any real entertainment.”

“Relax, Doyoung,” says Mark as he jumps from his horse. “Enjoy the afternoon.”

“Don’t be such a bore,” Donghyuck agrees and Doyoung sputters. “The sun is out, the people are happy, the view is stunning. No one would be angry if you actually tried to have fun.”

Mark bites his lip to keep from laughing as Doyoung’s face turns the color of a tomato, expression scrunched up and petulant. As much as Doyoung is older and is training to be an advisor, someone Mark can ask advice from and trust to lead him in the right direction, he has a very hard time relaxing. It’s one of the things that Mark has great difficulty with. He already has his parents to give him responsibilities, he does not need a third, as much as Doyoung would argue.

Spinning on his heel, Doyoung marches back to his horse to make sure the knot that keeps his stallion from running off is tight. There is nothing particularly wrong with Doyoung, Mark thinks. He’s a kind enough teenage boy, but he has placed himself among many duties and burdens that it makes him somewhat dull, in the long run. And while they both may be striving to prove to their fathers that they can live up to the job ahead of them, Mark thinks that Doyoung may need to learn how to free himself every now and again.

“How are we going to get rid of Dodo?” Donghyuck asks, shooting Doyoung a wide smile that shows off all his teeth when he glances over to make sure they are still there. “He won’t let us go so easily.”

Mark scans the area around them. “I would say that’s more your area of expertise.”

“I think you just enjoy passing the harder tasks onto me,” he snips.

And, perhaps, that’s true. Although, Mark believes it’s because Donghyuck handles the harder tasks so much better than he ever could. He has a way with words, a way to turn himself into someone somebody wants to listen to. Even if the words coming out of his mouth are against their better judgement. Mark has been on the other side of it before and he never wishes to be again. It’s how he ended up in one of his courtyard fountains in the middle of winter with no clothes to protect himself, nor the eyes of several of the maids who were just waking up to start the day.

“Hold Violet for me,” Donghyuck says, passing Mark his mare’s reins.

Violet’s eyes shift to Mark and she nudges her nose against his shoulder, looking for treats. His own mare has decided the grass is a decent enough snack. Neither of them watches as Donghyuck starts over toward Doyoung and smiles that smile that no one can withstand, even Doyoung. Even if he knows that smile is trouble, he still falls for it every time.

“You see that girl over there?” Donghyuck asks, pointing toward the lake where one of the farm girls is filling up buckets with water. “I think she may need help.”

“Doubtful, your highness. She seems to be doing just well in my eyes.”

“Oh, but don’t you think those are heavy? And she’ll need to put them in the cart, as well. Doyoung, don’t be cruel and leave her to attend to it all alone in this heat.”

Doyoung studies Donghyuck’s face. “What are you playing at?”

“Nothing! Nothing, of course. I just thought she may need help and, well, you happen to be the strongest and biggest out of the three of us. I also doubt you would let Mark or me go over.”

At the passing compliment, Doyoung’s back straightens. He glances back over to the girl. “She needs help?”

“Who would say no to a bit of help?” Donghyuck insists. “Mark and I will say here with the horses. Just to make sure they are safely tied up.”

“And you will go nowhere?” Doyoung questions, eyes flicking back and forth between the two of them.

Donghyuck smiles. “Nowhere you would assume we would go, of course.”

Hesitance fills Doyoung for a moment, long enough that Mark starts to think that he may not leave them at all. But then he turns and strides over to the girl. Donghyuck takes his reins back, swinging himself up onto the saddle with practiced ease. Following his lead, Mark does the same, still keeping track of Doyoung, who is talking to the girl, now.

She shakes her head, almost as if she were telling him she is fine. Ever the gentleman once he gets started, Doyoung puts out his hands, gesturing to the bucket, and then he makes a move to take it from her. She dodges, but not fast enough because Doyoung manages to grab the edge of it, tugging on it slightly. From where he sits on his horse, Mark sees the way Doyoung tries to keep calm and hold on tighter to the bucket. It’s a small game of tug-a-war until Doyoung accidently lets go and the girl goes flying back into the lake with a big splash.

Mark’s mouth pops open and Donghyuck throws his head back and laughs. Watching Doyoung scramble into the water to help the poor girl up and how she flicks water at him with her hand while people start to gather, is somewhat mortifying. And, yet, he can’t seem to bring himself to look away.

“Mark, hurry,” Donghyuck whispers. “While he’s distracted.”

The plan snaps back at him, causing him to yank on his reins and turn his horse away. Donghyuck starts Violet off in a run and Mark is quick to follow. There isn’t much time to get away before Doyoung realizes that they have gone missing, so they push their horses as fast as they can go, up and over the hill and out of sight.

Donghyuck leads for the most part since Violet is the faster out of their two mares. Although, Mark is close by, right at his heels. They ride back down the road they came before veering off into the meadow. His castle sits behind them, a looming figure on a hot, summer’s day. The warm air makes it appear haze, a little wobbly, though it remains just as intimidating as ever. He refuses to look back on the grey stone and thin, rising turrets. Right now, his sights are set on the white mountains ahead and the green forest that surrounds them.

As they slow, coming up to the edge of the trees, Donghyuck asks, “How long do you think it will take for him to realize where we are?”

“Not long enough,” Mark replies with a sigh. At some point, Doyoung will notice and he will follow. Or he will go back to the castle to get help. Either way, it isn’t enough time for them to do much, so he ushers Donghyuck off his horse, tie them both to a tree, and to follow him into the thick of the trees.

Not following a real path, it becomes too dangerous to bring a horse. Still, Mark worries about how long it will take for them to reach the bottom of the mountain on foot. At this point, he wonders if it’s worth it.

Except, he knows that his father hardly believes he’s old enough to travel through the forest on his own, so, he thinks, this might be enough. If he can make it to the edge of the mountainside and back without a scratch then he’s managed to prove his father wrong, that he’s not a child and that he’s brave enough to attempt it.

“Do you really think this is a good idea?” Donghyuck asks as they step over roots and rocks. He slips slightly and Mark catches his arm. “I mean, the guards don’t even like coming out here. There may be a border, but that doesn’t mean the Loup Garou respect that.”

“Why do our people fear them so much? We have the ability to bring out claws and teeth just like a Loup Garou could. What’s the difference?” Mark asks.

Donghyuck pales under the shadows of the trees. “Because they are _too_ connected with their wolf instincts, because they have no morals. They kill with no regret. There is no stopping them.”

Mark slows. Often, it’s hard to forget what Donghyuck went through almost six years ago. He had been so young at the time and Mark barely remembers a time Donghyuck wasn’t at his side, at his castle in Havenfield.

However, Donghyuck is the prince of Iarmos. He and his parents had been chased from their home as it was conquered around them. Young or not, he remembers it. Sometimes, on the occasions they have slept in the same room, Mark has woken up to Donghyuck crying out because of a nightmare, screaming for help.

He has seen the Loup Garou up close and Mark has not. He knows what causes the fear and Mark wants to know. He needs to know. He has to know what his kingdom is facing if he is going to come up with a way to stop it.

Reaching out, he takes hold of Donghyuck’s hand, startling him, and starts forward once more. “We will stop them. They have no idea what they’re up against.”

That draws out a small smile from Donghyuck’s lips and Mark feels rather accomplished.

Together, they trudge through the forest, following the scent of the mountainside. The forest is wet and moist and the smell of dirt sticks to the inside of his nose as they go farther and farther. Sunlight tries desperately to shine through the canopy of leaves high above their heads, to light up the invisible path they are following, but everything is so thick and green that most of the place is in shadows.

Donghyuck squeezes his hand and stops. “Mark, something is there.”

“It’s fine,” he says, tugging him along. The farther they get, the darker it seems. It feels only natural to get a little nervous.

“Your hand is shaking,” Donghyuck points out, the corner of his lips upturning in a smirk. “Big, bad prince is scared?”

Mark wrinkles his nose, willing his hand to stop shaking and consequently tightening his grasp on Donghyuck’s hand even more. “I am not!”

“Are, too!”

“Are not!”

Without warning, Donghyuck jumps on him, ripping his hand away from Mark’s. In turn, Mark nearly falls to the forest floor from the sudden weight. A tree keeps him steady. Donghyuck swings him slightly and they wrestle with Mark trying to escape and Donghyuck trying to hold on his hardest.

“Don’t worry, little prince, I will protect you,” Donghyuck sings in his ear.

Mark growls, a low and somewhat pathetic sound in the back of his throat that breaks at the end because, well, he’s still just a boy and growling is difficult for someone who is still growing as much as Mark hates to admit it.

“Oh, _so_ scary,” teases Donghyuck.

“Get off me!” he orders, taking Donghyuck’s arms and shoving him off. “I’m not scared. I’m the future king and I don’t need protection.”

He should have had enough warning. He saw the way Donghyuck’s eyes narrowed, the way his lips quirked. There was no way that he didn’t have enough time to defend himself, but Donghyuck is faster than Mark’s brain sometimes and a body slams into his so hard that he does, indeed, lose his footing this time and they take a tumble.

Unfortunately, it’s a tumble down a hill. They hit ever rock, root, and fallen branch on the way down. Mark knows he’s going to have a series of cuts and bruises to explain when he gets home. He lands with a particularly hard thud at the bottom, sore and heart pounding. He barely has time to register what happened before weight lands on his chest, hands slamming his shoulders down and knocking the air from his lungs. The smell of summer heat wraps around him. 

Peering up through his eyelashes, he finds Donghyuck above him, appearing just as scraped up and dirty as he feels. Clumps of dirt and bits of leaves cling to his golden locks. A bleeding scratch runs along the apple of his cheek. Still, he smiles, so proudly.

“I win,” he pronounces.

Mark rolls his eyes and groans at the pain that slowly starts to remind him what just happened. “Get off. Where are we?”

At the question, Donghyuck scrambles off him and helps him to his feet. Mark thinks it may be a sinkhole, judging by the way the earth droops around them to create a rather large pocket. Some of the trees have fallen, crisscrossing together in front of solid rock that leads up and up until it disappears past the leaves of the trees. Mark moves closer to take a look and realizes that they’re at the base of the mountain.

“We made it,” he says, turning to Donghyuck and hoping to get an excited smile, but Donghyuck isn’t looking at him. Instead, he’s gazing the way they came, eyes narrowed and lips pressed tight together. “What is it?”

“Something doesn’t feel right,” he mutters. “We should go back.”

“We just got here. If we follow the base for just a little while longer, we can get to the path that cuts through the mountain and—”

“Mark,” Donghyuck says, cutting him off. “Something is out there. I can feel it.”

Stepping up beside him, Mark tries to feel what Donghyuck does, but all he gets is the whisper of the wind and the soft caress of the leaves as they brush together.

“I don’t feel anything.”

“Listen. There are no birds. They stopped.”

The harder Mark tries to focus, the more he realizes that Donghyuck is right. The faint chirps of the birds are gone, leaving them only in the silence of the forest. Birds, much like most animals, can sense danger. If they have gone, then something is definitely amiss.

Out of the corner of his eye, something moves and Mark twists around to try and locate it. Except, all he finds are trees and bushes that bleed together into shadows. Beside him, Donghyuck tenses, a leg slipping back and upper lip curling. The expression is menacing compared to what Mark has seen him make before. However, if there is a threat, there isn’t much they can do about it. They have no weapons, no way out, especially if something tries to corner them.

He smells them before he sees them. The sour tang of clay and soil hits his nostrils. He snatches Donghyuck’s wrist. Out of the bushes comes a figure, and then another. And then another. They step out, backs curled and eyes alight. Human faces contorted into snarls, so low and gravelly that they send shivers down Mark’s spine.

Loup Garou.

The stories do them no justice, Mark thinks. Jaemin likes to whisper them when the sun goes down, about the clan that separated themselves from their own long, long ago, accepting a way of life that Mark’s people have tried to evolve from.

From the tales, they all came from a line of wolves, blessed by the gods for having saved one of their own from certain death. The pack was given a chance to evolve into what they are now: people, who still carry the essence of a wolf, the sub-genders and, occasionally, the instincts. It has taken a long time for his people to learn to control their claws, to live as people, based off the gods themselves.

However, along the way, a group decided they never wanted that chance. They work on de-evolving themselves into what Mark and his people know as the Loup Garou. They enjoy a life too close to their natural tendencies. They expose their claws, their teeth, their wolf way of life. Wild and possessive and, if they feel up to it, dangerous. Mark has heard them be called many things, including unhinged and unnatural. A figure stuck between a transformation, an abnormal creature that shouldn’t exist.

While they may be on Havenfield territory, they hardly care. For years, they have been inching closer, spreading wider. If Mark and his people aren’t careful, they will be next to fall to the creatures that renounced evolving, creatures that live to destroy.

They step through the bushes, hovering at the top of the hole. The furs that cover them are brown and patchy. Their skin is as white as moonlight, the same moonlight that used to control their changes before they all evolved past that. Mark can see the sharpness of their claws and the paleness of their fangs.

Mark’s people, they can pull those out, too, but not as quickly, not as vicious, and certainly not as easily when one is young like Mark is. His grip tightens on Donghyuck, eyes shifting from side to side, trying desperately to see if there are others. He only counts three.

Heart thudding in his chest, he whispers, “Run.”

Donghyuck does. Wrist still in Mark’s hand, he races to the side of the hole. The Loup Garou hiss and growl. One throws her head back and howls, as if in warning, as if letting the others know in the area that they have discovered new prey. Mark doesn’t intend to be eaten, so he scrambles up the side of the hill with Donghyuck right behind him and the Loup Garou jumping into the hole to try and snatch at their legs.

His fingers dig into the dirt, scrambling to pull him up to the top, when he hears, “Mark!”

Snapping around, he spots Donghyuck. The branch he’s reached for has snapped and he drags down toward the floor of the hole. One of the Loup Garou’s catches his ankle, jerking him down. Dirt rains onto Donghyuck’s face as he kicks one of them in the face while trying to keep climbing.

Mark’s claws may be small, but they are just as sharp. He allows himself to fall a few feet, just enough to be beside Donghyuck, and slashes at the Loup Garou’s face. He howls. His grip loosens enough for Donghyuck to kick at him again and knock him back into the others.

Together, Mark and Donghyuck climb out of the hold, lungs burning and hearts pounding, and they run. The forest is unforgiving for the people who stay off the path. They don’t know where they’re going, just that they need to get out. Mark shoves Donghyuck ahead for him to lead. Donghyuck’s always had the best sense of direction between the two of them.

Sure enough, Donghyuck veers off to the left like he knows the way home, like he has a clear idea, and Mark races after him. His foot catches a root and he stumbles slightly, giving him enough time to glance back.

The Loup Garou are behind them, fast on nimble feet. Their steps hardly make a sound as they chase them through the forest. Mark speeds up despite the way his body is screaming for him to stop and rest and breathe. But he would rather let his lungs burn than let anything like the creatures following catch him.

Donghyuck breaks through a bush and trips. His body tumbles forward, rolling into a clearing. Late afternoon sun hits them with all it has as Mark reaches his side and tries to pull him up. It’s too bad Donghyuck’s body is failing like Mark’s, giving no strength to his legs.

“Come on,” he snaps, dragging Donghyuck onto his feet. “Come on!”

Except, there is no where left to go. The three Loup Garou that followed them are slowing to a stop and entering the clearing with snarls on their tongues and glints in their eyes. They see food and Mark sees his death. It won’t be pretty. Everything about it will be painful and horrifying and there, in the middle of the forest, the Crown Prince of Havenfield will die because of his own foolishness. If only he hadn’t brought Donghyuck. He doesn’t deserve to die. Not after escaping all those years ago.

“I’ll distract them and you run,” he whispers as he catches sight of more figures looming among the trees.

Donghyuck shoots him a look. “As if I would leave you.”

He probably means it to come out stronger than it does because, despite the stern promise of his words, his voice shakes. Mark understands. He’s trembling, too. Even as he lowers himself next to Donghyuck, gripping his hand and accepting his fate. Squeezing his eyes shut, he awaits the pain.

Then something flashes past him, the wind whipping at his side, and when his eyes snap open, he finds a tall figure before him, throwing out his arms and growling so low that it shakes Mark’s bones. He knows that sound and he knows that scent of pine. Part of him leaps with relief, the other withers in guilt.

His father snaps his teeth and lets out a sound that is a mix between a growl and snarl and almost a bark. It’s vicious and protective and it belongs to a pack alpha. He knows that if his mother were here, the sound would be worse and she would jump into a fight like any mother wolf would, but his father holds back and raises himself taller than the Loup Garou, like a silent warning.

They respond in snarls and growls, shuffling back when they realize the king isn’t alone. There are knights in the trees with their swords out and their teeth bare. Sensing that there is no way to win, the Loup Garou keep retreating until they are running, far away.

Donghyuck collapses back into Mark with a heavy sigh.

“Papa,” Mark calls out. His father’s back is still to him, making no move to turn around. “Papa, I’m—”

“Home,” his father snaps. “We are going home. Now. Doyoung, Master Kim, keep my son and his friend on the path.”

With that, without another words, he sweeps past Mark, shouting orders to his Royal Guard, and Mark is left with a heavy heart and so much guilt he doesn’t think he knows what to do with.

*

Mark’s mother is seething when they arrive back at the castle. She sweeps him off his horse in seconds and glares so deeply that Mark practically shrivels at the sight. Donghyuck’s mother isn’t any different, though she keeps to disappoint, even still a bit of worry even though they are clearly alive and breathing, and keeps her anger simmering below all of that.

He knows they both look a mess. There are leaves in their hair and dirt on their clothes and cuts on their hands and faces. Without a word, his mother grips at his shoulder and calls for the maids to start a bath. Then, she steers him inside. He glances over his shoulder at Donghyuck, who offers him a slight, humorless smile, and then lets his mother lead him away.

While he waits for the bath to be drawn, his mother paces in front of the fireplace. Her beauty doesn’t disappear no matter how angry she gets. His father once said that even if she weren’t the alpha female of the kingdom, even if she were anything other than an omega, he believes she would still be the most beautiful woman he ever laid eyes on. Mark inherited a lot from his mother, from her dark hair to her pale complexion. Except, where she walks with poise and grace, with beauty that turns anyone’s head, Mark is gangly and awkward and a boy who still makes the stupidest of mistakes.

“What you did,” she starts as she turns to him with hardened eyes, “was the most idiotic thing you ever could have come up with, Minyoung.”

He flinches at the name. A name he hardly ever hears anymore since his father decided he would be the heir and chose his king’s name, Mark. Minyoung, the name his mother whispers to him when he’s half-asleep and only knows the comfort of her hand in his hair. He can’t remember the last time she said it with such conviction, with such disappointment.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, hanging his head so his dark hair falls into his eyes, to shield him from her gaze that burns holes into his soul. “I just wanted to prove myself.”

“That was no way to do it. Doyoung came back completely beside himself and we had to rip the king away from his duties at the Southern borders. I’m so disappointed in you. Prove yourself? You have no need to do that. Not at your age.”

Mark closes his arms around himself. “He will let me sit on the council, he’ll teach me the ways of the kingdom, but he leaves me at home when a threat comes instead of taking me with him. Because he doesn’t believe I can do it.”

“Because you are twelve, Mark,” she states, firm and solid. Then, she sighs. “You have more to learn before you handle things such as that. Your father is watching out for you, guiding you into being king at a slower pace than he was allowed when he was a child. He doesn’t want to rush you.”

“It feels like he doesn’t trust me.”

He hears the soft brush of her skirts against the floor before a hand falls on his shoulder and the other forces his chin up. The smile on his mother’s face is small and still a little tight. There’s fondness there, but still a bit of worry. All he wants is to take it all back, to tell her he’s so sorry, from the bottom of his heart. He lets himself fall forward into her and she wraps her arms around him. He feels small like this, in her grasp.

“He trusts you, and he believes you will make a great king, but you need to trust him, as well. He knows what he’s doing.”

Nodding, he mumbles, “Okay.”

“Now, go take your bath. Your father is waiting for you in his study and you should be clean and collected when you go.”

Solemnly, he peels himself away from his mother and steps into the bathroom. The maids have filled up the small pool in the corner with water that is so warm that Mark can see the steam that fogs the windows.

It doesn’t take much time for Mark to get clean, though he wishes it would because he is dreading meeting his father after everything that happened. All the fresh flowers and essence they scattered into the water stings against all his cuts and bruises. Once he’s out, towel wrapped around him, he lets one of the maids put ointment all over him that smells of leaves and lemon. His mother is waiting for him in his room once he’s dried and dressed.

She leads him through the halls, strides long and true, to his father’s favorite study. Outside the door, she turns to him, brushes a stray piece of hair from his forehead, and says, “Listen well, my boy. He knows what he’s doing.”

Mark doesn’t have time to nod, to say anything back, before the guards are opening the door and he’s ushered inside. Silence greets him. Out the window he can see the sun nestled behind the mountains, causing the tops to shimmer in gold. It’s bright and he has to look away. Even if it means looking at his father, who hasn’t yet acknowledged his presence. Instead, he stays at his desk, hovering over a mound of paperwork.

Antsy, Mark shifts on the spot, hands clasped behind his back, and lets out a noise that is supposed to sound like a clearing of his throat, but comes out more of a whimper.

At that, his father glances up. His eyes roam around Mark’s face, taking notice of all the cuts and the bruise under his eye, before a heavy sigh leaves him and he pushes his chair back. Slowly, he rounds the desk, keeping his attention on Mark. It makes him shuffle even more.

“What were you thinking? I told you that you were forbidden to get that close to the mountain, especially without me or the guards. And you dragged Donghyuck with you? A boy who lived through horrors on the other side of that gods forsaken mountain with the same creatures that chased you down this afternoon and would have torn you to shreds. If Doyoung hadn’t realized fast enough, if he hadn’t realized where your scent had gone—”

“I’m sorry, Papa,” he says, feeling every word as he says it.

“I could have lost you.”

Mark’s lower lip trembles. “I just wanted to prove myself. I never wanted anything to go wrong. I didn’t want Donghyuck to get hurt.”

“We never want things to go bad, Mark, but we can’t control how fate plays out,” says Seunghoon. He holds out his hand and Mark moves closer until he can fall into his father’s chest. The smell of pine fills his nose. “What you did was stupid and dangerous and you will never do that ever again, do you hear me?”

He nods. “Yes.”

Firm hands grip his shoulders and he’s pushed back so that his father can look him directly in the eye. “I’m serious, Mark. I don’t know what I would have done if I had lost you. The council would have been horror-struck…the only heir. But you aren’t just the only heir, the Crown Prince, to me. You’re my son and I thought my heart had been torn out when Doyoung told me you had gone into that forest. I thought I might not get there fast enough.”

“You did,” Mark says.

A smile tugs at his father’s lips. “I did. This time. And I hope there will be no next time?”

“Yes, Papa.” He nuzzles at his father’s arm, who chuckles deeply and pulls him into a hug. “I’m sorry.”

“I know you are. I know how difficult it is to go at things slowly, but a great prince—a great _king_ —knows that things take time. Never go looking for trouble, Mark. It will find you all on its own.”

Mark grips at his father’s vest, the fabric soft beneath his fingers. “I just wanted to show you I could be brave, that I could do more.”

“I know you are and I know you will,” he says. “I promise, in time, you will be able to showcase it more. Your time, right now, should be spent learning other aspects of being a Crown Prince. You will get to fight, and you will get to help, but until then, I need you to listen to me.”

Letting his father go, Mark steps back and nods. “I understand.”

“Good.” He smiles. “Because I don’t want you to get hurt, or Donghyuck, either. Both of you are too precious to lose in so many ways. It may not be fun, but if you want to learn the ways of the kings, you must be patient and do things slowly.”

“Yes, Papa.” Mark twists his hands together, peering up at Seunghoon through his eyelashes. “You will teach me, right?”

“Of course, I will,” he promises. “What else is a father there for if not to teach his son the ways of life?”

“Even when I’m older?” The image of his father’s back, facing down the Loup Garou, something he has probably done hundreds of times before without Mark there to witness it, burns in his memory. Mark and Donghyuck may have been in danger, but so was his father. “You will guide me then, too, right?”

Smile softening, Seunghoon takes Mark’s shoulders and squats down before him. “I will do what I can to the best of my ability. Mark, you have so much potential. More than you know. And I believe, with all my heart, that you will be a great king, a wonderful leader. Even if there comes a time that I can’t be there with you, I will always be here,” he presses a hand to Mark’s chest, over his heart, “watching over you. No matter how far apart we are, we will never truly be apart. Do you understand?”

Mark nods. “I love you, Papa.”

His father pulls him close, into a tight hug that is full of warmth and love and Mark melts into it. “I love you, too, my son. Forever more.”


	4. III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hold onto your hats because this chapter is a ride...
> 
> Happy Holidays to everyone! Keep safe out there <3

Mark is going on his sixteenth winter when his parents bring up marriage. He sits at the long, dining table, food spread out before him on golden platters, with his parents on either end of the table and Donghyuck’s mother seated next to his own mother. Donghyuck’s taken the spot across from Mark, poking at his food, but not really eating any of it. It worries him because he’s pretty sure Donghyuck hasn’t eaten all day. In fact, he looks pale, under the weather, and every time Mark tries to ask if he’s feeling all right, Donghyuck dances away from the conversation and Mark has no choice but to follow along.

“We should talk about it,” his mother says, eyes darting from Mark’s father to Donghyuck’s mother. “Soon Mark will present and then we’ll have to figure out a plan.”

Sighing, Seunghoon cuts at his meat and replies, “We still have time. There’s no need to rush them.”

“Rush who?” Mark asks. He looks from his mother to his father as something strange settle on his shoulders. It isn’t uncomfortable, per say, but it’s an anticipation all the same. Despite what they may think, he has seen the way they huddle together in the quiet and whisper. Whispers about Mark’s future.

“You,” his mother states, giving him a pointed look, “and who you will marry when the time comes. As soon as you present, more likely.”

Mark jolts in his seat, fork clanking noisily against his plate. “Marry? Me? To who? I thought I wouldn’t need to do that, yet.”

“And you won’t,” his father puts in, “until you present.”

“Which will be any day,” says his mother.

“Nayeon. He has time.”

His mother shakes her head, the jewels in her hair sparkling in the candlelight. “Very little. I don’t want him to grow up any faster than he needs to, but we have to start preparing for the inevitable.”

“Who—Who would I even marry?” Mark inquires, hesitantly, words stuttering. The idea of marriage causes his cheeks to warm. There are so many things that come with marriage that he doesn’t even want to entertain the thought of.

Putting her utensils down, his mother turns to him and says, “There are options. Princess Minji from Loch Tay just presented as a beta. And then there’s Donghyuck.”

Every muscle in Mark’s body tenses. He chances a glance across the table and finds Donghyuck’s eyes already on him. In a blink, they pointed down at his plate, cheeks pink on his complexion that should be golden, yet looks so pale. Paler than Mark finds healthy.

“Donghyuck.”

He doesn’t mean to whisper it, for it to fall past his lips. It slips out so quickly that he has no time to catch it. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees his mother nod. Donghyuck, however, doesn’t look up at the sound of his name. Still, Mark catches him flinch, small and almost insignificant. It makes his fingers tighten, knuckles white, and his body curl in on itself just slightly.

“He’s always been an option, you know that,” his mother says. Mark watches as Donghyuck’s mother reaches over to run her fingers through his golden hair. “Of course, there’s no guarantee. Donghyuck is likely to come out an alpha or beta, but it’s an option.”

“It’s kind,” Donghyuck’s mother adds, “since Donghyuck won’t have a kingdom and barely has his title.”

Seunghoon offers her a smile. “I have always been true to my word, especially to Yeonkuk. The idea of joining our kingdoms was important to him and I intend to do it if it’s at all a possibility. That being said, Mark still has some say.”

Does he? It never feels like it, he thinks. For ages, Mark has followed along after his father and all his council members. Even his mother has a say in what he wears and who he must see. His lessons are chosen for him, during times of the days that he can’t say no to.

When he was younger, there was more time to play, to be free, to roam around the castle without a care and so many wild misconceptions on what it meant to be a prince. Now, Mark wishes he never prayed his years away. Everything is happening so fast and without his say. So, somehow, he very much doubts that he will get much say in who he marries. Not unless he was dead set against it and, while he thinks it would be awkward to marry Donghyuck, he can’t think of a good enough reason to refuse it completely.

That thought makes him warmer and he ruffles his hair, trying to chase away the thoughts and images that float into his mind about his best friend. Who sits across from him. And, despite him appearing rather pale—and sickly, Mark notes with a tinge of worry—Mark would be stupid to not realize that Donghyuck is a handsome boy and will be a handsome man. He always has been. Mark knows this and he knows that everyone else knows it. The golden boy from Iarmos, with gold spun in his hair and glistening in his pores.

And, while Mark has never been one to focus on looks alone—he’s been around enough nobles and royalty of stunning features to figure this out—he can’t help but decide that Donghyuck is definitely one of the prettiest people he’s ever had in his company.

But, of course, that isn’t all there is to be a King’s spouse, especially to Mark, who has always cared more about a person’s personality than their looks. He knows he will need someone strong, determined, kind, and someone he can go to with problems of various kinds to be his partner.

He must admit that Donghyuck certainly has those qualities.

But his best friend? Marrying Donghyuck? It isn’t a bad thought, just a strange thought. Not to mention that they would have to—

Mark shakes his head. “It’s not—It’s not a need at the moment, is it? We aren’t deciding tonight.”

“Of course not,” his mother says, her voice softening as she reaches across the table to place her hand on his. “You need to present. Donghyuck still needs to present. But we should prepare a list so that we are ready. Once you do, we’ll have to move forward.”

Now that he’s sixteen, he has very little time. Most people present around this age, or within their seventeen and eighteenth year. Mark knows that he will be married by the time he’s eighteen if he presents any time soon. So little time, indeed.

“What are your thoughts?” his father asks, tilting his head.

Mark stills. “On?”

“On a possible tie between you and Donghyuck? We wouldn’t want to push you to do something you venomously disagree with.”

“Oh, I…” he trails off as he glances across the table. Donghyuck’s bangs are hanging in his eyes, almost refusing to look up. Mark thinks his hand may be shaking, but it could be him. He could be shaking with the pounding of his heart. “I mean—It isn’t—I don’t—”

The fork in Donghyuck’s hand clatters against the plate and his body slumps forward. He barely catches his head in his hand before it hits the table. In an instant, they are all standing. The guards shift in their direction.

“Donghyuck? Honey?” Donghyuck’s mother moves closer, lifting Donghyuck’s head up in her hands. His eyelashes flutter as if he can’t keep them open. He’s so pale. In the light, Mark sees the beads of sweat forming along his hairline as it’s pushed back away from his face. “Honey, what’s wrong? Nayeon, you don’t think…”

Mark’s mother moves quickly. She skirts around the table to Donghyuck’s other side just as the smell of honey hits Mark’s nose. It’s strong, so sweet, so enticing, and Mark’s legs quiver. The smell is so intense that he has to grip at the table to keep upright, to stop himself from moving or collapsing or _something_. 

Then, Donghyuck makes a sound. A soft whimper at the back of his throat that sends a spark through Mark’s body, like being struck by lightning. Everything is coming from Donghyuck. Overwhelming and sweet and uncontrolled. It smells like Donghyuck and yet it doesn’t at the same time. There’s something about it that’s tinged just slightly. Honey that’s crystalized, a summer’s day so hot it could cook an egg. Everything is turned up so high. Worst of all, Mark can sense something burnt beneath all those scents.

Donghyuck is terrified, and when he mewls again, falling into his mother’s arms, Mark’s heart aches.

“Mark,” his father snaps. “Get out. Someone get my son out of here and call on the physician!”

Hands fall on him before he can register that there are people circling him. His attention has been on Donghyuck the whole time, the rest of the room a blur. Donghyuck lays in his mother’s arms, breaths shallow and face flushed, yet pale underneath it all. The gold has faded.

“Wait, what’s wrong with him? Is he okay?” Mark yanks back on the hands to get them to let go.

His father steps in front of him, effectively blocking Donghyuck from his sight. “He’s presenting. Mark, you have to go. This could get chaotic.”

“I should stay,” he argues. “He’s my best friend. I can’t leave him. He’s scared.”

From the other side of the table, Donghyuck whimpers and Mark jerks forward, only to be stopped by his father and the guards.

“He will be fine,” his father promises. “You will see him soon. Take him out.”

“But, Papa!” He doesn’t have time to shout any more than that because the guards have him by the arms, dragging him from the room. The door closes behind him. He pulls himself away from the hold on him and slams his hand against the wood. “Let me in!”

“I can’t, your highness,” one of the guards replies, quietly. “Your father’s orders.”

Right. His father’s orders. The king’s orders.

It doesn’t matter how desperate Mark feels to follow that sickeningly sweet smell back to Donghyuck, he won’t be getting in.

“Shall we take you back to your chambers, your highness?”

Mark blinks at the wood of the door, hoping it will open, hoping someone will tell him that he can go back in. It doesn’t. So, he lets his hands drift away from the door, stepping farther back into the hallway, and nods toward the guards.

“Yes,” he mutters. “Please.”

*

The moment Mark steps over the threshold into the East Wing, all he can hear is Donghyuck’s cries. Even from the topmost tower of this side of the castle, his voice rings down the winding corridors, echoes off all the walls, high and raw and in so much pain.

Mark can feel it as it scrapes across his bones. The hair on the back of his neck stands on end, goosebumps rising from his skin. Donghyuck’s voice tugs at something deep in his gut. It draws him forward, down the halls, ignoring the ways his guards follow him with worrisome glances because they know, and he knows, he shouldn’t be here. Not this close.

Still, they say nothing because they can’t. Mark has already demanded them to take him to the East Wing, on the opposite side of the castle to his own room, to see Donghyuck. Even if it means walking through a wall of thick, sweet smells and helpless cries.

It makes his heart squeeze painfully in his chest. It’s nothing compared to what Donghyuck is probably going through, but Mark thinks it could be close. To hear Donghyuck call out for help, for someone, for it all to stop, is enough empathic pain to make Mark’s knees go weak.

His body moves on its own, desperate to ascend the stairs and get closer, to be there in Donghyuck’s room and help him. There isn’t any way to stop it because everything inside him is telling him to _go go go_. It stuns him a bit. Never in his life has he felt this innate need to be by Donghyuck’s side, but he’s feeling it now, enough to make his brain go fuzzy and his legs move on their own and for Mark to feel the urge to run like an itch in need of a scratch.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Mark runs. He runs until his lungs burn and his heart is hammering so hard it might try to escape his chest, and his nose is filled with desperation and fear and maybe even a hint of arousal. Gods, it’s so sweet that his teeth are aching.

When he makes it to the right corridor, his feet stumble. Honey and summer heat slams into him full-force. He reaches out for the wall to stabilize him. For that second, he’s glad he picked two mated beta guards to attending him. They will have a harder time to get entranced by something as enticing as this smell. By Donghyuck, no less. He’s always been sweet, but this…This is different. This is—

Mark trudges forward on wobbly legs. Maids stand outside the door with his mother at the helm. She talks in a low voice, something Mark could probably easily hear if he tried. Except, his attention is on the whines and cries coming from the other side of the wall. They are so much louder this close, so much rawer and frantic.

He draws closer and one of the maids gasps upon seeing him, causing his mother to spin on her heel. Her dark eyes go wide and she steps closer to the door, as if to block it.

“Mark, you shouldn’t be here,” she says. “Take him back to his room.”

The guards step forward, her order outranking Mark’s original one, but he moves quick and fumbles forward. “No, I need to know if he’s okay.”

A cry rings out. Donghyuck is definitely not okay.

Presenting is never easy. Never nice. While different for everyone, it is always disorienting because the body is shifting, turning, transforming. It awakens parts of the brain that were never there. It’s alarming and painful and scary. Gods, it’s scary.

Mark has heard horror stories of people lashing out at their own families, confused and frightened as their bodies and mind try to catch up to them. He knows that some people simply faint, others vomit, and some, well, some have to lay there for days as their insides form into something it had never been allowed before, especially for male omegas.

They grow up with no problems at all, still a little boy, but come presenting their insides shift into something entirely different. Something that will allow them to create slick, to conceive. Something unnatural to a man’s standard build. And while they could change titles, to become a beta or alpha, their bodies will keep that ability all throughout their life. It’s too bad that it has to happen abruptly and painfully when they are already so used to the way things were years before.

He jumps when Donghyuck screams, long and loud and tender on even Mark’s throat as if he were the one that screamed. It lashes out at him and something sparks in his chest, yanking him forward and almost off his feet.

“Please, you need to let me see him,” he begs.

Shaking her head, his mother says, “I’m sorry, but it isn’t safe. He will—He will be like this for a long time, Mark. We can’t have distractions while this is going on and there isn’t anything you can do.”

Because he hasn’t presented. Because he knows nothing about it. Mark isn’t an alpha or a beta, or even an omega. He’s unpresented and useless. Even though every part of his body tells him to push his mother aside and help Donghyuck. To ease him through this.

“Do you,” he swallows over the thick scent of honey, “know what he…”

His mother sends him a smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes. It’s tired and a bit sad. “Omega, honey. He is an omega.”

His heart thuds against his chest so hard he thinks it may bruise. Omega. Donghyuck’s an omega. His thoughts boomerang inside his head, trying to sort themselves out. If Donghyuck is an omega, that means there’s a chance that he might marry Mark and if he doesn’t marry Mark, he’ll be married off to someone else. Some other alpha. At that, his heart clenches.

“—ney? Honey? Guards, take him out of this wing, now. Get him out, you hear me?”

But Mark doesn’t want to go. He doesn’t want to leave. He wants to stay.

The door to the room opens, releasing heat and a scent so sweet, yet burnt, that it singes Mark’s nose. Even through the thick walls, through the entrance room that separates Donghyuck’s bedroom from the corridor, Mark swears he can hear the quick, shallow pants, mixed with whimpers and whines, all coming from Donghyuck.

“Let me see him!” he snaps, trying to shove his way inside, but his mother pushes him back and the maid that opened the door, inches it closed just a little. “Please, just let me see him!”

Every word that comes out of his mother’s mouth is melded together and warbled. His focus zones in on the way Donghyuck’s breath hitches and then he hears his voice. He hears Donghyuck call out his name. A fire lights up inside him.

But before he can move, the guards are taking his arms and dragging him back. He sees his mother cast him an unreadable expression before slipping inside of Donghyuck’s chambers with the maids and closing the door.

Mark fights until he knows he won’t win. By the time they make it to the edge of the wing, they have let him go and he’s wandering out on his own, mind still a blur and his heart refusing to settle.

Donghyuck.

Omega.

Donghyuck’s an omega.

It’s hard to wrap his mind around it because Donghyuck has always been someone Mark thought would be an alpha, or a beta. And, sure, of course, he can gain that rank, eventually, but to present as an omega and not something else feels as if Mark’s entire world has tilted on its axis.

He’s barely out of his thoughts before he runs right into someone. He thinks being around Donghyuck’s presentation has affected his nose a little too much because now everything smells so much stronger. He can practically taste the stone of the castle and the humidity in the air. He can smell the iron and the ocean water off his uncle’s cloaks far better than he ever has before.

Seunghwa gazes down at him with a raised brow. “You look as though your horse just died.”

Mark shuffles back, digging his hands into his pockets. Even here, in the entrance hall, he thinks he can hear Donghyuck screaming out for help, for him.

“Donghyuck,” he states, voice cracking. “He’s presenting.”

“Oh?” His uncle lifts his attention in the direction of the East Wing. “And they chased you out, I suppose?”

“Mama won’t let me near him.”

Wrapping an arm around Mark’s shoulders, Seunghwa presses him into his side and says, “Don’t worry your little head about it. Everything will be fine. He’s in good hands.”

“I know,” he mutters. Although, he still wishes he were there, still wishes he could help somehow. “I just feel useless.”

“Now, now, don’t be so hard on yourself. There’s only so much we can do at times like this. How about you go take your mind off it. Wander around the grounds.”

Mark shuffles his feet. “I don’t know. I’m not really feeling up to it.”

“What about the lake? I know how much you like it. And hasn’t it been ages since you travelled there? Not to mention, give it a few weeks and it will be frozen over. Might as well enjoy it now.”

“I guess,” he replies. “But I doubt father would like me wandering off at a time like this.”

“Nonsense! This is exactly what you need. You need out of this castle and into the fresh, evening air. I could even talk to your father, have him meet you there. What do you think?”

“Do you think he would?” Mark asks, suddenly keen. He hasn’t spent time with his father in so long and today, of all days, he thinks it would be nice. To talk. To understand what will happen. To get his mind off the omega in the tower above him screaming out for everything to stop.

Seunghwa hugs him tighter. “Why wouldn’t he? He’s your papa, isn’t he? Who wouldn’t want to spend time with you? Now, you gather up your horse and start on over. Best to get there now before the sun goes down, yes?”

Nodding, he steps back and says, “Thank you, Uncle.”

“Anything for you, my boy.”

Mark is quick to leave, even though part of him is trying to pull him back inside and up the stairs. He knows he can’t be trusted on his own, to stay on his side of the castle, so out for a horseback ride to the lake seems like a good idea. Enough time to give him time to think about what would come next.

One guard goes with him, as regulation, ever since he and Donghyuck slipped Doyoung’s hold back when they were younger and were almost torn apart by Loup Garous. Doyoung, of course, was pleased to have the extra help in chaperoning after all those times of chasing Mark and his friends around the castle.

He’s at the back entrance when he hears his name. Turning, he finds Jaemin at the doorway to one of the staircases. His brown hair is styled out of his face, the gold trim of his vest and the metal of his buckles glistening in the torchlight.

Mark allows Jaemin to draw closer, to ask, “Where are you going?”

Being the son of one of the Dukes, Jaemin comes by the castle often. He stays for long periods of time, which is one of the reasons he, Mark and Donghyuck became such close friends when they were younger. Lately, he’s been out of the castle, back on his own lands, trying to learn what it takes to inherit his father’s position.

During that time, over the course of the last few seasons, he hasn’t changed much. There’s still that sparkle in his eye, a mischievous part of him ready to go whenever he needs it, and he’s still just as handsome as he was when he left. He’s taller now, though. Taller than Mark. 

“To the lake,” he replies. “You’re back for the winter, then?”

“Until spring, yes.” Jaemin tilts his head, brows furrowed. “You’re leaving now? Isn’t Donghyuck—”

Mark casts his eyes to the floor. “They won’t let me see him. I figured it might be better to get away, get some air.”

The hum he gets is low, somewhat dubious. With each passing time they meet up, Mark finds it harder and harder to understand Jaemin and just what goes on in his head. He used to be sneaky, always up for an adventure that may land them in trouble. In a way, Mark thinks he is still like that. But a part of him has mellowed into something that Mark can’t quite put his finger on. Reserved, maybe. Or perceptive. Each word feels right. Although, Jaemin’s always been perceptive in different ways as he’s grown.

Mark remembers the fun they had and a large part of him wishes they could still do all those things. Wishes they could run through the servant corridors, sneak food from the kitchens, escape Doyoung. Now, they are older and there’s so much more expected of them. Roles to fill that they haven’t quite learned the rules for. Expectations and responsibilities that feel just shy of uncomfortable on their shoulders.

“You will be back?” asks Jaemin.

Nodding, he says, “Yes, by sundown. Keep an eye on him for me. Please?”

“Of course.” He answers as Mark expects him to, quick and so sure. Even if distance has found its way between them from the time of separation, they are still friends, still supporting and caring of one another. Mark likes that.

“Thank you.”

With that, he slips from the castle with his guard on his heels and the cold wind nipping at his skin. It takes little to no time at all to saddle up his horse and get on the road. He hopes that his uncle will bring his father to him because, as much as he hates to admit it, he needs help. He needs advice and validation and his father. He _needs_ his father.

As a child, everything felt so simple. He had all the time in the world to figure things out and now its here, right in front of him. His future isn’t later. It’s now. With Donghyuck as an omega, it’s now up to Mark to present and when he does his whole future will be outlined in front of him. He will marry, he will have children, he will be a Crown Prince until they place the crown on his head and then he will be king.

It feels heavy on his heart. He nudges his horse and speeds her up down the road, if only to get away from everything so much faster before he realizes he should go back. And, _oh_ , he feels like he needs to go back already.

The lake glitters in the evening sun. The sky is darkening ever so slowly and Mark knows he only has a couple more hours before is vanishes completely behind the mountains.

Hardly anyone is at the lake, having fulfilled their duties earlier in the day. Now, it is abandoned and beautiful and Mark hops off his horse to move closer. His reflection twinkles back. Dark hair and dark eyes and skin the color of moonlight. People tell him that he looks like his father when he was young, just a boy on the edge of manhood, but Mark can’t see it for himself. He knows he inherited more from his mother than his father. At least in terms of coloring. Other than that, he feels so lackluster compared to his father. No broad shoulders or tall, intimidating stature. Mark is still willowy and hardly muscular and he looks as though he couldn’t even harm a fly.

He kicks a pebble, disrupting his face in the water and starts walking along the side until he reaches the part of the coast that narrows into a river. The ground gradually falls into twin cliffs on either side of it, trees of the forest growing right up to the edge. He glances back at his guard and tells him to stay. His guard looks hesitant, but does as he’s told.

Mark doesn’t plan on going far. Just a bit into the forest to try and be alone. Just for a moment. He makes it a few feet in, just out of the guard’s eyesight, and leans against one of the trees. Beside him, he can hear the river trinkling. Pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes, he lets out a shaky breath. He bites his lip to keep it from trembling because, all of a sudden, he feels like crying.

Back at the castle, Donghyuck is still screaming and Mark is here, too far to be of any use. Not that he could be. His fist hits the tree, not caring if he breaks the skin on his knuckles. He is the Crown Prince, the one who is supposed to present first. He’s supposed to be an alpha and make this easier on everyone. Now, he’s nothing but an extra body in a too busy room.

Something snaps in the distance, like a branch or a root, and Mark tenses, head twisting to peer farther into the trees. He sees something blur by.

Curious, he inches closer and places a hand on the hilt of his sword that hangs at his hip. A sword his father got for him last winter because his old one was too beaten and too small.

He has to dig his heels into the cold, hard dirt to ascend the incline. The water of the river flows below, slowly, due to the dam that keeps it from overflowing the area. In the distance, if he squints just so, he can see the wooden structure built between the narrow passage made from two mountains. It’s old and Mark has never been remotely close to it, but it’s still there, still strong.

Another blur passes out of the corner of his eye and he spins around to follow it and finds nothing. He can hear his guard call his name, but he ignores it. He doesn’t want to make any sudden moves or loud noises. Not when he doesn’t know what’s out there, circling him.

The higher he goes, the more he looks down at the river. It’s a small cliff, but still a drop, nonetheless. He keeps away from the edge as he moves in deeper and deeper.

Then, as he travels along—the ground stretching out father until it vanishes among trees and darkness and, eventually, the mountain side—Mark hears it. At first, he thinks it may be whatever is out there, circling him, but it’s too loud, too much like thunder. It cracks and creaks and Mark steps back as the dam, still several yards away, starts to quiver.

It snaps and a stream of water bursts through. Then another. And another.

He watches, horrorstruck, wide eyes set on the crumbling wooden structure. Then, he bolts.

He abandons all curiosity and just runs. He’s barely made it a few feet before the whole dam screams and shatters like broken glass. Water gushes out, erupting like something akin to magma from a volcano, and it pours toward him in the small crevice beside him. He loses his footing and tumbles. His fingers try to grasp the edge, but the water swings up and rams into him, hard and fast, sweeping him down the river.

All the air is knocked out of his lungs as he slams into the side of the ravine and he scrambles to latch himself onto the roots that poke out. He chokes when he takes in a mouthful of water. It’s cold and, yet, it burns his skin. With utter luck, he manages to catch one of the roots and holds on desperately. He sputters as water lashes at his face and his body and everything starts to hurt. His fingers struggle to keep a grip. 

Somewhere out of the forest his guard is probably swept away and the farmlands will be ruined and everything in the tiny area will flood.

Against the current, he reaches for one of the other roots, just a little higher than the one he clings to now. If he can get himself out of the water, he can, hopefully, get himself to safety.

“Mark!”

At the sound of his name, he looks up. Peering over the edge of the ravine is his father, his uncle at his side.

“Papa!” he shouts back. Just seeing him gives Mark more strength to hold on.

“Stay there!”

As if he can go anywhere, he thinks. His fingers slip and he readjusts his grip as his father rushes along the side of the crevice to a lower point and sinks himself down the side. Mark’s eyes widen. Opening his mouth to tell his father to go back, to stay out of the way of the rushing water, a wave slams into his side and he falls in.

He falls below the surface, losing hold of the root, and is carried down the river. He’s almost past his father when a hand shoots out to snatch at the back of his cloak. With a strong pull, he’s ripped from the water and thrown against the side of the cliff. Mark’s instincts kick in and his hands find themselves digging in and gripping onto anything they can to keep himself stationary.

“Up, Mark! Climb up!” his father yells.

He does as he’s told. Tired limbs force him up the cliffside. When he reaches the top, he scrambles over the edge, panting, wheezing, and coughing up water. Blinking away the droplets that cling to his eyelashes, he notices that his father isn’t there.

Moving to the edge, he glances down. His father reaches up for a branch, nearly at the top, before it snaps. Mark’s heart shudders as the water shoves his father away.

“Papa!”

For a moment, just a moment, he sees nothing but rushing water. He can hear it and see it and it’s everything in that very minute that his senses will pick up. Helplessly, he searches for anything, a sign, a body, and then his father erupts from the surface farther down and slams into cliff, just where it starts to dip down into the valley.

He climbs up the side and Mark scrambles to his feet, hoping to get to him and help. Except his legs won’t let him stand and the cold is starting to sink in. He sees his uncle running toward his father and he thinks it will be okay, that everything will be fine.

They are alive and they can deal with the flood.

But then something slams into the side of his head. His vision blurs as he collapses back onto the ground, legs and arms giving out from under him. The pain is hardly noticeable over the numbness of his body from the icy water that still seeps into his skin. Groaning, he lifts his head, wondering what hit him, but he has no time to check. Through the fuzziness of his sight he manages to see his father, almost at the top, fall.

His heart clenches so hard he screams as he watches his father’s hands give way, his uncle reaching out for him. It’s as if time slows down as Seunghoon falls and falls and falls. Mark’s heart drops along with him. When he hits the water, it’s awkward and heavy. The current sweeps him under in a blink.

Willing his body to move, Mark scrambles to the side, hear tin his throat, and gazes along the river. It’s slowing, it’s settling, but his father hasn’t come back up. In fact, he’s nowhere to be seen.

“Papa!” he shouts over the noise. “Papa!”

A hand fall on his shoulder and he startles. His uncle stands over him with a furrowed brow as he says, “He lost his footing. I couldn’t reach him.”

Mark couldn’t care less about his tired legs and his aching head. He shoves himself onto his feet and races along the side of the cliff, searching. He doesn’t tear his eyes away from the river as he begs under his breath for his father to be okay, to just resurface.

He stumbles down the incline with his uncle at his heels until they can’t go any farther. He fumbles to a halt as he takes in the area. The lake has been taken over; now double the size it was. Pockets of land stick up out of the surface like small islands. The water carries for a good distance, into some of the farmlands. Luckily, it doesn’t reach the village in the distance. The buildings, appearing tiny from this far away, are safe. Unfortunately, he can’t find his guard or their horses. He hopes they managed to get away on time.

Regardless of the way his head pounds and his body tells him to give up, Mark wades into the water until it’s up to his waist, searching for his father.

“Papa!” His throat is sore. Everything is sore. Except he can’t stop himself from looking. Somewhere, under the water, is his father. He just hopes they aren’t too late.

“Mark, there,” his uncle calls.

In the distance, washed up on the newly formed islands, is a figure. He goes to move straight for it, but his uncle catches his arm and leads him around. It takes longer, but it’s shallower and allows them to walk, not swim.

Breaking free from the lake, Mark race over, dropping to his knees when he gets to the body and rolling it over.

“No,” he breathes. His father lays limp on the cold ground, water licking at his legs. His eyes are closed, his lips blue. There’s no pulse. “Papa, wake up. Please. Wake up, Papa.”

He shakes him, calls to him, but there’s no reply.

His body trembles, from the cold and the adrenaline and the fear. Gods, the fear fills his body from the core because, _no_ , his father can’t be dead. He _can’t_ be. He was alive mere moments ago. He had been laughing with Mark just this morning. He isn’t dead.

Tears burn at his eyes and he hardly realizes they are falling until the drops fall onto his father’s cheek. With shaky fingers, Mark reaches out to brush the fringe from his father’s eyes. There is no breath, no life. He’s as cold as ice and Mark lets out a whimper because his father was warm. He was bright. He was anything but cold.

“Please,” he begs, voice cracking. “Don’t leave me. You can’t leave me. I don’t know what to do without you.”

Laying his body over his father’s, Mark holds on. He holds on because he doesn’t know what else to do. Squeezing his eyes shut, he pleads to whatever gods out there to just bring him back. Too young to die, he thinks. And Mark is too young to lose his father, to become king. A sob escapes him as he clings to his father, arms tight and fingers digging into wet fabric.

He isn’t ready. For any of this.

“You said you would always be with me,” he whispers. “You promised.”

The silence in return shatters his heart.

“Oh, Mark, what have you done?”

He stills, sobs caught in his throat. As he opens his eyes, his tears blur his vision. Slowly, so slowly, he sits up to glances back at his uncle. His lower lip quivers, his hands refusing to let go of his father. He doesn’t ever want to let go. Seunghwa’s eyebrows are twisted together, his lower half drips with water as he stands there, watching.

“I—I didn’t—No, I didn’t do this,” he stutters.

“If you hadn’t had gone so far in…” His voice trails off as he shakes his head. “You should have listened and stayed at the lakeside. Your curiosity—”

“It was an accident! The dam broke and I couldn’t—I never meant for this to happen.”

Sighing, Seunghwa drops down to kneel beside him. “No one ever does, but the fact remains that the king is dead. And if it weren’t for you, he would still be alive.”

Mark digs his fingers into the mud, staring down at his father. The man who helped raise him, who taught him how to be a proper man and a proper prince, now lays lifeless before him. The backs of his eyes burn.

“What would everyone think?” asks his uncle, soft and quizzical. “What would your mother think?”

No. Mark shifts away before scrambling to his feet so fast that he almost falls over and back into the water. He can’t feel his toes or his fingers. He’s so cold. In so much pain.

He turns to his uncle, shivering. “I don’t—What do I do?”

“Run,” his uncle states, standing. “Run away and don’t come back. A Crown Prince, even if by accident, killing his own father is punishable by death. Your mother wouldn’t be able to take it. To lose both her boys. Leave and spare her the trouble. Spare the people the trouble.”

He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to leave. But his uncle is right. Mark, no matter how he puts it, is the reason his father is dead. If he had just stayed at the lakeside, if he hadn’t been stupid and tried to find out what or who was hovering around him, if he had been farther away from the blast and had time to warn his father and his uncle of the dam breaking, then his father would still be alive.

But he isn’t and it’s Mark’s fault.

He backs away.

“Run,” says his uncle.

So, he does.


	5. IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is a small chapter and there's sort of a reason for that. This is basically the ending to Part 1/Arc 1 of this story (it's set into two parts) and is kind of like the epilogue to Part 1/set up for Part 2.   
> I wish it was a little longer, but it just doesn't seem right to add more to it because it just...feels right?
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy it, regardless of the length!   
> Have a happy New Year and I'll see you in 2021!

Tired legs carry him away from his father, from the castle, from his home. He stumbles, still cold and wet, as he breaks free of the lake and through the stretch of dying grass, straight into the trees that are in the process of losing their leaves. With no set direction, Mark just runs until his legs are numb and his lungs burn and everything hurts so much more than he ever thought it could.

He knows he’s going South. Loch Tay is on the other side of this particular mountain range, though he won’t enter it. The forest is too big, too widespread, that it would take more than a week to actually reach it, but he can get as far away from the people and the towns and anyone who has any mind in searching for him.

In fact, he would rather waste away among the trees, the season on the verge of winter, than face the people who trusted him and cared for him. Knowing he was the reason his father, their king, is dead would be enough to send him to the guillotine or to exile him into the unknown far, far away from Havenfield.

Mark’s heart hurts like his body and his head does. Whatever hit him on the head earlier must have broken the skin because as the rest of him dries, the blood still runs wet down his cheeks. His vision swims, black dots dancing around the edges, and, suddenly, he feels hot. So hot even as the winter air attacks him.

Fumbling over a root, he slams into a tree and falls. His body crumples and rolls until coming to a stop. Coughing, he tries to gather himself. Above him, the sky is darkening into a navy, the clouds dark swatches of grey. With all the power and strength he has, he pushes himself up onto his hands and knees, then to his feet. He uses one of the trees to steady him as he looks around.

He doesn’t know how far he’s gone, but it doesn’t feel far enough, so he decides to force onward. Except, his body is trying to shut down. He’s freezing and numb, but heat curls in his gut and behind his eyes.

There’s a snap in the distance and movement. Unfortunately, Mark is too sluggish to even register it to its full extent. He hardly notices until it happens again, so much closer. His nose catches a whiff of clay and dirt and something else that makes him think _human_. Twisting around, he searches for whatever is there.

His ears pick up the shuffle of feet, the low vibration of a snarl, and Mark tenses. There, only a few feet behind him, is a Loup Garou. His posture is bent, claws dragging along the bark of the nearest tree. Sharp teeth glint in what little evening light they have. Mark catches sight of the red along the man’s lips and the stain along the front of the grey fur that covers his chest.

Hesitantly, Mark steps back. The Loup Garou’s eyes follow him, bright and alert and ready for the kill. He has his sword, still strapped to his hip, still somehow there after everything. He could fight back. But his hands won’t move to grasp it.

The Loup Garou steps forward and Mark runs. A howl follows him. It cuts through the forest so loud that he winces. But he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop. Even when he senses more of them chasing him deeper and deeper into the trees.

He should let it happen, he thinks. His father is dead and he’s a murderer. He deserves to die. Still, he’s afraid. A coward. He doesn’t want to die. Not like this.

So, he runs.

Leaping over a rock, he sees a spot in the forest floor, dark and almost too small to really fit through. Regardless, he knows he has no other choice. Scrambling, he dives for the hole in the ground and forces himself inside. Shadows fall over him as he presses himself farther into the space and as far from the opening as he possibly can get.

His heart pounds as the footfalls draw closer. They know where he is because they drift right outside. One of them shoves their hand inside, claws extended. Mark gasps and shuffles back. Hot and cold and tired and sore, Mark waits for them to break the hole open, to jump inside and tear him apart, but they don’t.

A huff and then a growl. A howl and then footsteps.

Mark waits. And waits.

Then, nothing.

He pants into his arm, trying to keep quiet, even though he knows they have left him. They probably think he won’t survive much longer, that he will die in the cold of the night. Temperatures will drop inside this forest and Mark wonders how long it will take until he is no longer breathing. He doubts he will make it until morning.

But then he hears voices and he thinks they came back, so he slams his hands over his mouth and tries not to make any more noise.

“Here,” someone says. “I think something is in here.”

“Fucking menaces. Just once, would you let me shoot one?” comes a reply.

“Only if necessary. Remember what Taeyong said? Wait, Renjun,” a pause, “look.” A shadow falls over the hole. Mark glances up and finds two eyes peering back at him. “Are you all right down there? Do you need any help?”

“Of course, he needs help. He’s in a fucking hole. Move.”

The boy is shoved out of the way and replaced with another. Mark flinches when a hand slips into the hole and wiggles its fingers. No claws, he notes.

“You coming out or what? Jeno, help me out here.”

“I was trying and then you pushed me away.” The first boy comes back. Mark can’t see their faces. Not really, but he can tell by their voices that they are young. Perhaps his age. “It’s okay. They’ve left. Come on out. We won’t hurt you.”

Mark is slow and, perhaps, a little stupid. There is nothing telling him to trust these people, but he does anyway as he takes the boy’s extended hand and allows himself to be pulled free from the dirt.

“My gods, you’re a mess. And bleeding,” says the first boy—Jeno, if Mark remembers. His face is the first thing Mark sees because its hard to miss the scar that cuts across it, almost disfiguring his features. It runs from his right eye, across his nose, and to the left corner of his mouth. It twists the skin, the scar glowing white under the oncoming moonlight, despite how white his complexion is already. It doesn’t help that his hair is a shock of black. Regardless of the scar, the boy beams at him. “We’ll get you cleaned up, yes? What’s your name?”

Eyes flicking to the second boy—Renjun—who is somewhat shorter with dirty blond hair and narrow eyes, Mark replies, “I—Um—I’m—” His vision swims. “I’m sorry.”

Those are the only words he manages to utter before his body collapses. He feels someone catch him before he hits the ground. His eyes fall shut, the heat flaring in his body like molten lava.

“He’s dying,” he hears Renjun say. “From the cold? The head wound?”

There’s a hum. “That. And I think he’s presenting.”

“Bloody hell, just what will Taeyong say?”

Then, everything goes black.

*

“Taeil did what he can to patch him up,” comes a whisper. “We just have to wait.”

“For how long?”

“Until he wakes up.”

Mark can hear them, but he can’t move. Nothing wants to move. His eyes are sore. They feel swollen and heavy. Even his eyelashes hurt when he tries to peel them apart. It’s fruitless, however. All he can do is listen.

Well, until he falls asleep again.

*

Everything hurts. It’s so hot that he wants relief. He thrashes on the bed, eyes glued shut and unwilling to open.

He can hear someone shouting, and when a burning sensation fills his throat, he realizes he’s the one who’s screaming.

The sound he makes is feral and vicious and hands force him down, down, down until he can’t move, until he’s trapped.

“It will be over soon,” says a soft voice in his ear.

Then, everything goes away.

*

Mark wakes to a wooden ceiling and candlelight casting everything in flickering orange. His head pounds, but he can wiggle his fingers and toes, maybe move an arm or a leg, without pain lashing back at him.

The space around him is all wood, logs and planks nailed together to form a room. The bed beneath him isn’t the most comfortable thing, though he doesn’t think he has a right to complain. He can feel the feathers that make the mattress and the scratchy fabric of the blankets wrapped around him.

As he takes in the room, he spots a man, sitting in a chair in the corner. He’s handsome, Mark thinks, as he notes the dark hair and equally dark, round eyes. While his jaw appears sharp in the lighting, Mark can’t help but think this man seems soft in all other respects. Even just from a glance.

Almost as if he can sense Mark staring at him, he glances up from the book on his lap. “Oh, you’re awake. I’ll fetch Taeil.”

“Wait.” His throat is sore and his voice is deep and rough from sleep. “Where am I?”

The man stands, placing the book on the wooden dresser, and moves closer. Up close, he is even more handsome. Mark thinks the nobility of the castle would fawn over him. His heart twinges at the thought of his home. His former home, he reminds himself.

“You are in Greenshire. My name is Taeyong. I help run this place.”

“Greenshire?” Mark racks his memories. Countless hours of studying all the towns and cities and countries and he has never once heard of Greenshire. “I don’t believe I’ve heard of it.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Taeyong replies, softly. “We are a hidden camp. On the Southern border.” He tries to sit up, but Taeyong stops him. “Please, stay still. You have been through a lot the past couple of days. I will fetch Taeil. He’s the doctor here.”

“Can you—Can you tell me what happened?”

Sighing, Taeyong seems to give up his mission to get whoever Taeil is and drags the chair in the corner over to sit down. “Renjun and Jeno found you while they were hunting. They said you were in a hole.”

“I was running from the Loup Garou.”

“We figured. There are a lot in that area. Renjun and Jeno shouldn’t have been there in the first place.” He shakes his head. “You collapsed from several things. Cold, being one of them. Presenting, being the other.”

“I presented?”

Offering a small smile, Taeyong nods. “You did. How do you feel?”

“Tired. Sore. But better than I was before.”

“It will be like that for another day or so, I would imagine. Though, Taeil will know better.”

“Could you…” He licks his lips. “Could you tell me what I…”

Taeyong’s eyes narrow as he tilts his head. “Can you not feel it?”

“I can’t feel much of anything,” he admits. “I’m still so foggy.”

“Alpha,” Taeyong replies. Mark’s eyes widen. “You presented as an alpha. Congratulations.”

Except, it doesn’t feel like something to be congratulated for. For all of his life, he wished to be an alpha, to be the perfect Crown Prince and the perfect king. Now, it feels useless. Now, he wishes he had never presented at all. Nothing good will come out of this, he knows.

A knock comes at the door and another, shorter man with light hair steps into the room. Mark immediately recognizes the two boys behind him. Jeno with the scar and Renjun with the look of sheer impassiveness. Together, they move to the side of the bed.

“Well met,” the shorter man greets. Taeyong rises from the chair to get out of the way for the man to press his hand against Mark’s forehead. He winces at the touch. “My name is Taeil. Do you remember your name? Who you are?”

“I’m—” He stops, cutting himself off abruptly. Calling himself Mark feels wrong. He isn’t Mark. Not anymore, especially not Prince Mark of Havenfield. Swallowing over the lump in his throat, he says, “Minhyung. My name is Minhyung.”

Taeil nods. “Good. You gave us all a scare. We thought you may die, but you pulled through quite well. Give yourself another couple days and you will be back to full strength. It was lucky that Jeno and Renjun found you when they did.”

“Fell right into Jeno’s arms,” Renjun says. “Not a sight we get to see every day. Most people fall away from him.”

Jeno’s lips downturn, the scar pulling. “Rude.”

“True,” Renjun replies with a shrug. “Also, you’re heavy. You owe us for dragging your ass back here.”

“Renjun,” Taeyong chastises. “Leave the poor boy alone. He’s been through enough. Minhyung, ignore him. You’re welcome to stay. For as long as you like. Though, I’m sure you have family waiting for you back home.”

Gripping at the blankets, Mark tries not to cry. He tries to shake away the burning at the back of his eyes. “No,” he mutters. “I don’t. I have nowhere to go.”

For a moment, everyone is silent. Then, Taeyong gives him another slight smile. “Well, like I said, you’re welcome here in Greenshire. I’m sure Jeno and Renjun can get you settled and find you a place to sleep.”

“We have an extra bed in our cabin,” Jeno tells Mark. “You’re welcome to stay there.”

Mark twists his hands further into the blankets. “Thank you. For everything.”

“Just keep to resting for a little longer,” Taeil says. “And you will be up and moving in no time.”

Despite him saying that—after Taeyong and Taeil leave the room—Renjun and Jeno help him up. Mark’s legs almost give out under him, but they catch him. The fur cloak Jeno lends him is a little too big, but it’s warm and, when they lead him through the small cabin and out the door, he’s grateful for it. The wind is cold and unforgiving. 

It’s morning, judging by the position of the sun, and everyone is out. Mark isn’t sure exactly where they are, except that Greenshire appears to be built inside a large clearing. Large enough to have several cabins and what looks to be a tiny piece of farm land where nothing appears to be growing because of the frost that has layered itself over everything. Tall, monstrous trees surround them. Behind him, he sees the white peaks of the mountains high above.

“Where exactly are we?” he asks, trying to locate the spot in his mind and coming up stumped.

“Along the Southern border,” Jeno replies. “Out of the way of the towns and the main roads. Everything we have, from food to any other necessity, is done here. Or in the next couple of clearings over. Greenshire is somewhat spread out.”

“And very hidden,” adds Renjun. The three of them start forward, showing Mark the whole of the place. There are kids and elders. Generations that Havenfield never knew about. “We keep out of the way of everything and live a quiet life. The only troubles we get are the Loup Garou, but they tend to leave us be. Taeyong’s built a large enough group of hunters to be somewhat of a threat and seeing as we don’t go into their territory, they don’t come into ours. An unspoken kind of truce.”

“Although, one day, they will come for what we have. Right now, they seem very set in their own plans and leave us be for the most part,” Jeno says. “There are about thirty people in this clearing alone. Greenshire has up to about a hundred and fifty people, in total. Taeyong controls this section. He’s the Head Alpha.”

Mark’s head is spinning. “And no one has found you?”

“No one important, or who cares,” answers Renjun. “We certainly aren’t harming anyone out here. Sometimes, people even want to join us. Keep away from the rule of the king.”

Mark stills. “You don’t like him?”

“It isn’t that we don’t like him,” Jeno says, leading them to a bench to sit. From here, Mark can watch the people wander, the kids play. A lady is handing out baskets of food for the winter. “We just prefer a different, quieter way of living. We respect him, though. From what we know, he’s a good man.”

“Was,” Mark whispers before he can stop himself.

Renjun’s eyebrows furrow. “Pardon?”

It’s too late to correct himself. “He was. He died.”

Jeno blinks. “When? We never got news. You come from the villages then?”

Mark wants to stop talking. He wants it all to stop. His head is still throbbing. “Recently. How long was I out?”

“Only a couple of days. What were you doing in the forest?”

Running away, he wants to say. Running from killing his own father. “I got lost,” he says, instead. “Turned around. And then the Loup Garou came out of nowhere and I didn’t know what to do.”

“Well, seeing as you were cold as ice and going through a presentation at the time, I think you did rather well to have survived as long as you did. Don’t worry, though. Taeyong will let you stay for as long as you would like. And we could always use more hunters.”

Suddenly, as if something clicks in his mind, Mark presses a hand to his hip. “My sword. I had a sword.”

“It’s back at the cabin,” Renjun says and Mark deflates. “Pretty thing, that. I eyed it up a bit. Did you not think to pull it on the Loup Garou?”

“Renjun,” Jeno snaps.

“What? I think it a very valid question.”

“It is,” Mark says before Jeno can reply. “I didn’t think—I just never did.”

Renjun’s eyes scan his face and then his form. “It doesn’t matter. You are here now. And if you want to stay, we can make you useful. You look like you know how to use the sword even if you didn’t pull it. Idiot idea, by the way.”

Jeno sighs. “Renjun, please. Be kind.”

Ignoring him, Renjun adds, “We can always use more hunters. Especially in the next few days. We need to prepare for the snowfall. It looks to be bad this winter. What do you say?”

“I can just…stay here? You know nothing about me or who I am?”

“As long as you aren’t a threat and you’re useful, you can stay,” he says. “So, what do you choose?”

Mark knows he can’t go back. That is entirely out of the question. He would rather his whole kingdom think him dead than have them picture him as a murderer. His mother wouldn’t be able to handle that. She would be heartbroken. And Donghyuck—Gods, Donghyuck, who is probably coming out of his own presentation, who is probably searching for him even if they tell him there will be nothing to find. Mark clutches at his knees. Donghyuck, so good and brave and innocent, doesn’t deserve someone like Mark as a best friend.

No, he can’t go back. He won’t go back.

“I will stay,” he decides. “If you’ll have me.”

Renjun nods and Jeno smiles.

“We have just the place for you,” Jeno says. “Let us find you some things to wear. I think Renjun’s parents will have something.”

Mark lets them help him up. He lets them lead him to another cabin farther down. He lets them talk, lets Renjun complain about his mother’s worrying and lets Jeno tell him all about what they are planning for the winter to come and what Mark can do now and into the future.

It isn’t ideal. This isn’t how he pictured his life. But this is what he has and, as he sweeps his eyes over the collection of cabins and people inside the clearing, he doesn’t think it may be all that bad. As long as they never find out who he is.

Prince Mark of Havenfield. Murderer of the King.


	6. V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone!  
> So, if you haven't noticed, I updated the chapter count. I've finally finished this fic *wipes brow*  
> We have two full chapters after this one with a very short epilogue right after. Seriously...very short. It might end up getting posted on the same day as the last chapter because I would feel horrible for making you wait a weak for something so short haha So just keep an eye out for that!  
> Anyway, this is the start of Part Two. It's now three years after Mark left Havenfield and joined Greenshire. So, he's nineteen years old. He's growing up so fast!
> 
> I just wanted to thank everyone for their support! I can't believe it's gotten over 1000 hits. Thank you so much! I really appreciate all the comments and kudos, as well. They're such a great motivator! I'm really honored <3
> 
> But enough of me rambling haha I hope you enjoy!

_Three years later..._

The heat of the summer sinks into him, sweat forming along his skin and dripping down his temples. Inside the forest is cooler, the trees a wall of protection, but it’s still hot and Mark wishes he had listened to Jeno and cut off the bottoms of his trousers to give himself some relief. Unfortunately, he didn’t, so now he steps between the trees, dying of heat with his sword heavy on his hip, quiver weighing against his shoulders, and a bow in his hand.

He has never needed his sword, but Taeyong makes him take it, just in case. It’s a precaution. Over the years, the Loup Garou have kept a distance—strangely so. They seem to have backed off, just weeks after Mark’s arrival. The nearest clearing in Greenshire had tried to find out why, but there are borders to keep them safe and the Elders forbid them from going past them, into places like Havenfield.

Mark catches himself before his toe can hit a rock and scare away the deer they have been tracking for the last hour. They need to keep as quiet as possible. Spread out over a distance, as well. Sometimes, he catches sight of Jeno or Renjun, but, otherwise, he feels like he is alone with only the whisper of leaves to talk to him.

Three years and this has become his life. Hunting in the wake of summer to feed the people of Greenshire. At first, it had been strange, something surreal, to think he could have a life after everything. Except, now it feels right. It feels better.

He’s glad the Elders forbid travelling over the border because it gives him the poor excuse of never going home. Not as if he would want to. No one back home would understand, especially now, especially after so long.

No, he has Greenshire. He has Jeno and Renjun and Taeyong and the whole clearing. They can’t replace what he had, but they fill in the void with something more their own and Mark is glad for it.

He hears a whistle. Turning to the left, he spots Renjun behind a tree. He almost blends in with the brown of his outfit. A dagger is tied to his boot—something his mother had given to him before Mark had even showed up.

Using the tip of his bow, Renjun points over his shoulder. There, nestled between some bushes is a doe. She ducks her head down to eat, ears twitching and Mark knows they have to be as silent as possible.

He moves with ease, footsteps soft against the forest floor, until he comes to stand beside Renjun. He frowns, glances around and then shakes his head in a silent, ‘Where’s Jeno?’

Renjun juts his chin toward the deer and Mark follows the movement. Jeno is behind a cluster of trees, hardly visible, on the other side of the bushes. He peers back at them over the deer. None of them make a move, waiting.

This isn’t a new occurrence for them. Not anymore. Taeyong sends them out as a trio, though reluctantly. He never seems happy to let them go alone. Even if the Loup Garou have seemingly backed off. Regardless, they go, and they always come back with food because that is their main purpose in the small community.

Mark pulls out an arrow, nocking it, and lifting the bow. He was never much of a shot, his aim always just a little off, but, over the years, he’s gotten better. Enough to get the arrow close to where he wants. Besides, he has no choice this time. They rotate and it’s Mark’s turn to take down their dinner.

The doe lifts her head, head snapping in his direction. For a moment, just a moment, they stare at each other. Vulnerability and fragile life. Mark knows that well. He’s felt that. He’s seen that. It haunts him in his dreams, constantly reminding him of what he doesn’t want to be. Because, even if he doesn’t go back, he still needs to be stronger. Always stronger.

So, he shoots.

He hits the target.

*

“Why do I always have to lug the animal back?” Jeno asks, the deer thrown over his shoulder. It was small enough to be very little issue for him. Mark has seen him pick up heavier. Of course, normally they would have a wagon close by, but, this time, they left it at the community. It would have been just another thing to drag around in the heat.

“Because you can lift it?” Renjun offers. He leads them through the trees, effortlessly. Renjun is a tracker and a good one at that. Mark can always trust him to lead them where they need to go, with no fear of getting lost. “Stop complaining. We’re almost there.”

Mark follows behind them, listening to them bicker. That part, he thinks, has not changed since they met. It’s a comfort in its own right. It’s worrisome when they aren’t bickering at each other, though Renjun is usually the one to keep it going. Not that Mark will say that out loud. He likes to keep out of that as much as possible.

Both of them, to Mark’s surprise, were betas. Their scents dulled by their somewhat unassuming rank. They didn’t need anything so palpable. Not like an alpha that had to let everyone know they were powerful, or an omega, who was made to entice a possible mate.

And while Mark couldn’t control his scent, it would always be strong enough to pick up. Of course, he couldn’t smell it, but the others could. Renjun would complain about it being too much and Jeno would always joke about Mark’s alpha trying to show off. Mark never asked what he smelt like; too afraid of the answer.

Mark doesn’t want to know anything that may somehow connect him to his old life, when he was sixteen, useless and terrified. When he thought he knew everything, but knew absolutely nothing. He’s lucky, he supposes, that Renjun and Jeno don’t ask. He can see that they want to. Even still, they hold their tongues, exchange a glance, and change the subject.

Living in Greenshire has given him the opportunity to break away from everything he ever had. They care for him as if he’s always been there, adopting him into their society with no questions asked. He stays in a small room with Renjun and Jeno, inside Renjun’s family’s cabin. He hunts for them, he builds for them, and he tries his best not to let them discover who he was and what he’s done.

Mark tries his best to not let himself remember it, as well.

Except for the times he wakes up screaming from nightmares. Nightmares that flash his memories back at him; his falling father and his body right after, the look on his uncle’s face when he tells him to run, and what Mark thinks would be the disappointed and horrified expressions on his mother’s and Donghyuck’s faces when they discover what’s happened to him. He wonders if his uncle told them he died. Or maybe just that he ran away. Or, perhaps, that he’s simply gone missing. He hopes for the last one. It might ease some of the pain.

And, god, Mark hates thinking about them all because it hurts. It’s so painful. It tugs at his heart and makes it ache like he’s been stabbed over and over. Even if he wanted to go back, he wouldn’t be able to. It would make things worse.

Some days are easier than others. Some days, Mark goes hours without thinking about any of it. Other days, it’s all he can think about. Especially Donghyuck. Always Donghyuck. He wonders what has happened to him, if he’s with someone, if he’s married and expecting or maybe even has a child already. The thoughts make his stomach churn, but, if that were the case, Mark supposes he should be happy that Donghyuck’s moved on and managed a normal life without thinking his best friend is a murderer.

Yes, Mark is definitely better off in Greenshire. It makes everyone’s life just that much easier. And that’s what he wants. Easy.

As they walk, he listens to the sound of Renjun’s humming. It’s an old folk song they sing around the campfire. One that Mark had never heard when he arrived, but could now riddle off all the lyrics in one breath.

“How close?” Jeno grunts as he shuffles the deer on his shoulders for a better hold.

“Close,” is all Renjun says before going back to humming.

Jeno turns to shoot Mark an exasperated look and Mark shrugs, a smile pulling at his lips. He catches the way the scar on Jeno’s face tightens as he sends a smile back.

It took a while for Jeno to open up about that. Mark never begged to know, but, one night, when they were sitting by the fire after everyone left, Jeno told him. So quiet that his words were almost swept up by the wind.

“My dad did it,” he had whispered. “There was never a way to please him. Never a way to win him over. I was a disappointment the day I was born. When I presented as a beta, instead of the alpha he wanted, he lashed out. It wasn’t pretty.”

Mark can imagine that it wasn’t. He soon finds out later that his parents are in a completely different section of Greenshire, that Jeno left without uttering a word about it because he didn’t want his parents to suffer. Now, Jeno lives with Renjun and his family. He lives his life with whispers about his face and yet he smiles, anyway.

Running away and refusing to acknowledge his parents has made Jeno someone the Elders like to call a ‘ruffian’. To them, he appears like a bad son, someone flakey and not worth it. And his good looks are supposedly lost to them because of one scar. To them, Jeno is unmateable and everyone thinks it, even if they have to say it behind his back. Everyone except Renjun, his family, and Mark. Because, while Renjun’s family may not know the whole story, they all know that Jeno is strong and happy and kind.

Some days, Mark would like to show the Elders just how he feels about them. They have no higher power, but their words still hold merit and they often have no idea what life is like in the present anymore.

However, Mark has no say. He’s the foundling, the mystery. Welcome, but still an outcast. The Elders hardly ever bat an eye at him, and he tries to avoid them as much as possible. He may have been born an alpha, but he is a beta in this community. The only people who can say anything to the Elders are the collection of alphas that run each clearing and, most of the time, they try to minimize the conflict.

When they reach the clearing, all the other hunting groups are back with their wins. Everyone convenes by the pit, in the center of everything, and starts to inventory everything. Jeno lays their deer with rest and goes to join Mark’s and Renjun’s side.

Standing amongst all the people is Taeyong. Despite the heat, his brown furs wrap around his shoulders. His dark eyes scan the food before turning to a few of the other men and women who run the larger hunting groups and saying something Mark can’t quite hear.

Over the years, Mark has managed to untangle some of Taeyong’s past. His father, before his untimely death, was the leader of this specific clearing. Taeyong was his only son. When he presented as an omega, most assumed he would step down, allow another presented alpha to take charge after his father died. Needless to say, Taeyong did no such thing. He fought to become leader, against the Elders’ better judgement, and claimed the alpha rank among the people. Mark admires him for that.

When he turns, he catches sight of Mark, Jeno, and Renjun and comes to join them. The smile on his face is nothing but friendly. “You did well.”

“We will collect more,” Renjun tells him. “Tomorrow. This one took a little longer than we thought and we didn’t want to stay out into the evening.”

“Good decision,” says Taeyong with a nod. “Still, be proud of what you did catch.”

“Well, you can thank Minhyung for it. He was the one that shot the arrow.”

It’s not a clean shot. Mark knows that his archery master back at the castle would have lectured him all about it. But in Greenshire, close enough is just fine.

Taeyong squeezes Mark’s shoulder. “Well done.”

It feels odd, to be praised by someone after everything he’s done. He doesn’t deserve it. Then again, they have no idea who he really is and what has happened. They only know him as Minhyung, the boy they found near death in the middle of the forest. Regardless, Mark feels itchy when he receives such unabashed compliments.

“Taeyong!” Taeil comes hurrying over; face red from the run or the heat, Mark isn’t sure. “Johnny’s arrived.”

Shoulders tensing, Taeyong frowns. “Why?”

“He said he needs to speak with you. Right away.”

Taeyong sets off after Taeil. With one glance at Jeno and Renjun, all three of them do as well. People have begun to shift, to circle around the arrivals from their neighboring clearing.

Two men whisper amongst themselves. One of them is tall, broad, and when he turns Mark recognizes him as Johnny, the alpha in charge a clearing over. They have only had a chance to meet once. Still, it was enough time for Mark to know that while Johnny may seem fierce, he is humorous and kind. The man next to him is slightly shorter with ink black hair and sharp eyes. Upon seeing Taeyong, they both bow. Taeyong bows back.

“Well met,” Johnny greets.

Crossing his arms, Taeyong narrows his eyes, flicking between the two of them. “Yes. Well met. What’s happening?”

“Perhaps we should talk in private,” Johnny offers. The collection of people around them are hush in their murmurs as they watch on, curious.

“Fine, come this way.”

Mark watches as Taeyong leads Johnny and his companion through the crowd and back toward his cabin. Renjun nudges his shoulder and starts off around the clearing. Jeno and Mark follow.

“What do you think that’s all about?” Jeno asks.

Renjun shakes his head. “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out. Come on.”

Quietly and as unassuming as they can, they sneak around the backside of Taeyong’s cabin and huddle up under the window.

Jeno bites his lip. “Should we really be eavesdropping?”

Renjun shushes him. Carefully, inches closer to the window. “Listen.”

“—into Havenfield—”

“You went out of bounds?” Taeyong snaps, cutting Johnny off. “You know that’s against the laws!”

“I would much rather know where our enemy is than sit on our asses and have them suddenly descend down the mountain on us. We don’t have an army, Taeyong. Not like they do. We must take precautions.”

“By sending people out into dangerous territory?”

There’s a click of a tongue and an unfamiliar voice drifts through the window. “Havenfield has never been dangerous. We just don't associate with them. It’s very different. Besides, we were careful enough. Came back unharmed.”

“And you let him go?” asks Taeyong.

“I refused, actually,” Johnny replies. “But Ten does what he wishes. You know that as well as I do. Even in his current condition.”

“My condition is fine,” says the other voice—Ten, Mark presumes. “I can do anything any other person can.”

A sigh. “You see, I cannot win.”

“All of this is beside the point,” Taeyong says. “Even if I do believe you are reckless to go out while carrying.”

“I am perfectly fine,” states Ten. “I do as I wish and I am careful about it. I was careful when I went over the border and you should be glad that I did. They have moved into Havenfield territory.”

Mark feels his heart clench, his fingers moving to the sword at his side to grip the hilt.

“No wonder we haven’t seen them in so long,” says Johnny. “They have been setting up home inside the valley. Too busy destroying it to pay us any mind.”

“How have we not heard about this?” Taeyong asks. “Surely, we would have known much sooner. Even if we never leave our ground, people should have run, possibly come through here, shouldn’t they have?”

“You would think. But that seems not the case, doesn’t it?”

“It looks as though the majority of the people have left through the main roads,” Ten says. “That would be my guess. And because of that, I would assume they had time to pack up and leave.”

“Meaning it wasn’t an attack,” Taeyong realizes. “The Loup Garou were let in? How? Why?”

“We don’t know. All we know is that the Loup Garou are in Havenfield now, which gives us very little hope. They know where we are. Eventually, they will come for us,” says Johnny.

Mark inhales sharply. No. It wasn’t possible. Havenfield has an army, has allies. This should never have happened. His home should have been safe. And, yet, now, it has been taken and there isn’t anything Mark can do about it. For the past three years, living in Greenshire, he had been safe while Havenfield was being taken over.

“Minhyung?” Jeno whispers, touching his arm to gain his attention. “Are you all right?”

Renjun glances over, runs his gaze over Mark’s face, and says, “Let’s go.”

Wordlessly, he trails behind them until they hit the pathway leading back to Renjun’s home. The people have begun to divvy up the meat. Some of the best cooks of the clearing have taken the larger bits to keep until later. Mark doesn’t get to watch any more of it because Renjun steers them to the back of his cabin where a small firepit is set up. He collapses on the grass, hands behind his head so he can stare up at the sky.

Jeno sits next to him. “Loup Garou in Havenfield? How do you suppose that happened?”

Stomach churning, Mark takes a seat and bites his tongue. The last thing he wants to do is slip up and admit to them that was his home, that’s where he ran from.

“King Seunghoon dies and the whole place goes to shit,” mutters Renjun and Mark flinches. “Whoever took over apparently has no idea what they’re doing. Do you think the royal family is still alive?”

For a moment, Mark and Jeno are quiet. Mark feels like he’s going to be sick, the bile burns low in his throat. If the Loup Garou have taken over, then they might be dead. Everyone he ever knew. Because his uncle would never let them move in on Havenfield. He cares for the kingdom, and for Mark’s family.

He thinks of his mother, of Doyoung, of Donghyuck. Dead. They must be.

His stomach tilts.

“Minhyung? Where are you going?”

Mark barely registers Jeno’s voice as he scrambles to his feet and stumbles away toward the trees. He doesn’t get very far before he’s doubled over and vomiting up whatever is left in his stomach from the morning. It’s sour on his tongue and his throat burns and his body wants to give up.

No, he thinks, they can’t be dead. It may be years, and Mark may have left them, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t still care for them all. And, gods, he can hardly believe that they could be dead. Something in him says that he would know, that something would have set off a warning bell in him. Except, he’s been away for so long that, perhaps, he’s just kidding himself. They could be and he would never know.

A hand falls on his back, rubbing circles into it. “It’s okay. Let it out. Renjun’s fetching water for you.”

Jeno’s voice is calm, quiet, and a relief to Mark’s ringing ears. He listens as Jeno tells him to keep calm, to breathe. There isn’t much left in him to come out, so he only gags a little more until it stops completely, his body trembling and clammy.

He leans against the tree just as Renjun comes running over with a cup in his hands. Mark takes the water without a word.

“Should I fetch Taeil?” Jeno asks.

“You look like you’re about to keel over,” adds Renjun.

Mark snorts. “I feel like it, but no. I don’t need Taeil. I just need a moment.”

Frowning, Jeno inquires, “What’s going on? You seemed pale the moment we overheard about the Loup Garou. Are you worried about them coming here?”

He thinks that he should tell them everything, that he should explain who he is, his past, what he’s left behind and what probably is no longer there anymore. It just seems so much harder than he thought it would be. Right now, they have no ill thoughts of him. If he told them, if they knew—No, he can’t do it.

So, he nods. “Yeah, I guess it made me more anxious than I thought it would.”

They don’t speak of it any longer, even if Jeno and Renjun look like as if they want to pry. Both of them often look as though they want to ask, want to know, and yet they don’t because it’s fruitless. Mark gives them nothing to grasp. Just enough to keep them from asking any more.

Yes, he came from Havenfield. Yes, he ran. Yes, something bad happened that he has nightmares over that requires Jeno or Renjun or even both to snap him out of it. Neither one of them say a word and Mark is thankful for it.

They are his new family. Jeno, Renjun, all the people in the clearing. They are his home, now.

That still doesn’t stop his heart from remembering, his mind from spinning, at thinking his mother and his best friend may very well be dead.

Jeno steps inside the cabin to fetch them blankets so they can lay out under the stars while Renjun takes a spot next to Mark. They sit there as he sips on his water.

“You left people there, didn’t you?” Renjun asks quietly, eyes dark and unreadable.

Mark nods.

“Do you think they’re alive?”

“No,” he replies. “And if they are, I hope not for long.”

Because if they are surrounded by Loup Garou, he very much hopes they will be dead soon. Neither of them deserves to live through those horrors. Mark wouldn’t wish that on his worst enemy.

Still, a part of him—a very small part—hopes they are safe. Somehow, somewhere, they have found something to call home, away from it all. He leans his head back against the tree. Yes, a very small part indeed.


	7. VI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, folks! This is probably the chapter everyone has been waiting for haha  
> The tags say "minor sexual content", but I'm going to be honest with you...it's not THAT bad. I'm really putting it there to avoid anyone getting upset. I would rather over-tag than under-tag, you know? But, yeah, it gets spicy! 
> 
> There isn't much to say about this chapter.   
> Just so everyone knows, there's only one more chapter and then the epilogue. I'll be posting both of them next Thursday, so just keep an eye out for that!
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy <3

Mark feels hands on him, soft, delicate, like air brushing along his skin. They drift down his arms, a chill falling in their wake. Lips ghost along his cheek and he begs his eyes to open, to see the weight that’s placed itself on his chest. A heart beat is hammering, whether it be his or the person on him, he has no idea. All the air is caught in his lungs and hitched up in his throat as lips brush up to his ear.

“Mark,” comes a whisper. Mark keens, arching into it, eyes still refusing to open. “Why?”

“Why what?” The words feel heavy on his tongue, like his mouth is full of cotton.

“You left me.”

Something snaps. The hands on his hips tighten, fingers digging in. Cold seeps into his bones and Mark freezes at the tone, harsh and hard like a slap to the face. He tries to open his eyes, but he can’t. They just won’t.

“You left me,” the voice repeats in his ear. “You left _us_.”

Mark twists, trying to get away. “N-No, I didn’t want to. I had to!”

“This is all your fault!”

Finally, Mark’s eyelids snap open and dark eyes glare back at him. Part of him registers the gold skin and the blond locks, but everything is blurred and unfocused that Mark wants to believe that it isn’t who he thinks. Still, the voice is so familiar and it forces itself into his skin, into his heart, before he can stop it.

“No! I didn’t want to!” he shouts. “It happened so fast!”

“Lies! All excuses!” Then, the weight leans farther into him, lips brushing against his and Mark tenses. “You left me for lies. I hope you die.”

“DONGHYUCK!”

Mark flies up, nearly out of his cot. Sweat clings to his hairline, the back of his neck, and all down his back. It doesn’t help that the room is sweltering in the summer night. Gathering his breath, he glances across the room to two other cots, one for Renjun and one for Jeno, and finds two pairs of eyes staring back at him.

He runs his fingers through his hair and looks away. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“We’re used to it,” says Renjun. He’s perched atop his bed with his legs crossed and his hair a mess. It doesn’t look as if he’s been up for too long. Still, Mark is guilty. “What was it this time?”

Shaking his head, he says, “Nothing. It was nothing.”

“You called out a name,” Jeno tells him, softly. “Donghyuck again.”

Mark remembers when he first called out Donghyuck’s name in his sleep, how Renjun had asked, “Is he someone you left behind?” It earned a warning hiss from Jeno in the form of, “Renjun, no.” Mark refused to answer.

The curious expression on Renjun’s face doesn’t go unnoticed, but Mark doesn’t want to talk about it. He’s still reeling from whatever emotions were swirling inside him. Still gasping for air.

“It’s fine,” he says. “I’m fine. Just a bad dream. I’m going to go for a walk.”

“Do you want us to come with you?” Jeno asks, but Mark only shakes his head again. “If you are sure.”

When he stands up, his legs nearly give out. Luckily, he manages to keep upright. “I am. I won’t be long. Go back to sleep.”

He slips out of the cabin as quietly as he can, as to not wake the others. The night is hot and dark. High above him the stars try to shine through the evening clouds. Somewhere, around their clearing, is the night guard. Mark has done a few shifts himself. They are calm, but they leave him to long with his thoughts. That, he thinks, is never a good idea. Much likes his nightmares, the thoughts never stop.

Dreaming of Donghyuck isn’t anything new. Mark has had plenty, in all various ways—some of them make his ears hot and his cheeks warm and his body itch—stretching from even before he left Havenfield. The ones that have stayed shake him to the core because Dream Donghyuck tells him things Mark already knows and tries to ignore.

Liar. Coward. Weak.

He knows he is. He knows all of it. And, yet, he can’t fix it. Even if he wanted to.

His boots crunch along the path as he makes his way to the pit. The fire is put out and everyone has left for the night. He finds a log to sit on.

Laying his face in his hands, Mark breathes, deep and long. Part of him longs to go back, to see what destruction has befallen his old home that his father worked so hard to protect, the home he had once would have been king of. He needs to know if everyone he ever loved is dead. However, what he wants, what he longs for, is not something he can have.

He will have to live the rest of his life not knowing. And that kills him. Perhaps, he owes that pain to his family. They deserve to have him suffer for what he did to his own father and what he’s done to them.

A sound of footsteps startles him. He whips around to find Taeyong at the foot of the path. Stopping at the edge of the pit, Taeyong asks, “May I sit?”

Despite all the space on the log, Mark scoots over and allows Taeyong to sit next to him. It’s rather rare to have a moment alone with Taeyong, always so busy with running their small clearing. When he first came to the community, Taeyong had worked in time to spend with him in order to show him the ropes—the somewhat, less troublesome ropes that Renjun and Jeno would later still drag him into—and it was nice. Now, with Mark more or less assimilated, there isn’t much for Taeyong to speak to him about besides a friendly ‘Hello’ and ‘How are you?’.

So, being next to Taeyong in the dead of night after a nightmare seems surreal.

“I know you heard Johnny speak of the happenings in Havenfield,” says Taeyong, voice quiet and even.

Mark shifts. “I’m sor—”

“Relax,” Taeyong casts him a smile, “I know by now I can’t keep you three at bay. You will discover things regardless of how much I keep them from you.”

That makes Mark smile back, albeit a little sheepishly. “We were curious.”

“You always are.”

The quiet falls over them as they blink up at the stars. A cloud shifts just enough that Mark can see the brightest one in the night. It used to be Donghyuck’s favorite. Thinking of him makes his heart twinge.

“You are restless and troubled,” says Taeyong. “Never a good combination.”

“No, it isn’t,” he murmurs.

Taeyong hums. “Sometimes, I think the best way to release burden is to talk about it.”

“I can’t,” he says. “It…You would change how you—how all of you—look at me and I fear that too much.”

“Minhyung, I have known you for three years and, in those years, I have discovered that you are stubborn, a little reckless, and a troublemaker should Renjun and Jeno convince you.” Mark ducks his head and Taeyong chuckles. “But you are also brave, resilient, and kind. I watch how you care for my people. We care for you just as much. I doubt anything you did in your past would cause me to see you any differently.”

Mark flicks his gaze to the ground and nudges his heel into the dirt. “Trust me. It would. It’s better if I just say nothing at all.”

“If you so choose to,” he replies. “Just answer me this: is it the reason you’re up at this ungodly hour?”

It is. It really is. Except, that isn’t abnormal. Mark is no stranger to midnight walks to chase his dreams and fears away for even just a moment.

Sensing Mark’s hesitation, Taeyong says, “When I was younger, I came across the Loup Garou in the forest. I had run away from home after a fight with my father. I remember being terrified. They descended upon me so quickly I had hardly had time to scream.” Mark shivers. “My father and mother got there before I could die, but only just. I have nightmares about it still, to this day. I find walks under the stars great for clearing my fear. I assume you are much the same.”

“Sometimes,” he says, “when they are too bad and Jeno and Renjun only watch because they don’t know what to do. I leave more to give them the peace, I think. They have to put up with it.”

“I doubt they see it that way. They just want to help where they can,” says Taeyong, “with what you’ll allow them to help you with. Your nightmares—Are they of your family?”

Mark nods. “Occasionally. My father, my mother.” He wraps his arms around himself. “My best friend.”

“Ah,” he breathes.

“I know they must hate me. In my dreams, it seems like they do.”

“Dreams are hardly reality. It is up to us to make sure we don’t believe in them more than what is offered in real life. You miss them.”

Mark doesn’t miss the way he says it as a statement, like he knows. “With all my heart.”

“I’m sure they do as well. And I’m also sure that they would be upset to know that you carry so much burden on your shoulders. The ones we love and who love us back never want us to suffer, Minhyung. Remember that.” He heaves a sigh and pats Mark on the knee. “Well, I think it’s time both of us went to bed. Don’t you?”

Taeyong is up on his feet when Mark rushes out, “Do you think Havenfield is completely gone? Do you think the Loup Garou killed them all?”

For a moment, Taeyong says nothing. He keeps his eyes on the stars. Then, he glances at Mark and says, “I think everything, much like people, are never completely gone. With a little hope and determination, you can make them grow again.”

“And if they’re dead?” he asks before he can stop himself.

At that, Taeyong smiles, soft, like a secret. “Grow them in your heart. Because the moment you let them shrivel, is the moment you have given them up completely. Good night, Minhyung. I will see you tomorrow before your hunt.”

Mark stays, long after Taeyong disappears down the path toward his cabin. The clouds have dissipated, leaving only bright stars and a glaring moon. He remembers, when he was young, how his father pressed a hand to Mark’s heart with a promise to always watch over him. And he hopes, with all his being, that his father was right because, if he wasn’t, Mark isn’t sure what to believe in anymore.

Tiredly, he gets up and heads back to his small cot in the corner of Renjun’s room. Both of the boys are sleeping, snoring, and Mark curls up under a thin blanket and turns toward the wall.

He closes his eyes, a tear escaping before he can catch it. If Havenfield and his family truly are gone, he hopes, somehow, it finds another way to regrow. With a heavy heart, he knows it just won’t be by his hand. Not now. Not ever.

Gods, he thinks, how he has fucked up his life. Destroyed it before it could bloom. Now, he will never see what it would have become.

It’s too late for that.

*

The hunting party in the morning is smaller than Mark originally thought it would be. He, Jeno, and Renjun are still together, and there’s a small group next to them collecting their gear. Most of the other hunters have decided to stay and help ready more of the farm land they have managed to slowly expand after losing a few trees the last couple of months.

Standing next to Taeyong, is Johnny and Ten. They chat amongst themselves, eyeing the hunters. At one point, Mark manages to catch Johnny’s eye, but he twists away before either of them can do anything about it.

“Let’s find a trail,” Renjun announces as he starts off toward the trees, bow slung over his shoulder.

It doesn’t take long. It never does when Renjun is with them. Even from a young age, he was taught the art of tracking from his grandfather. Mark hasn’t met anyone better. As soon as they are just beyond the trees, they start following a small trail where Renjun tells them there are deer.

“How are you?” Jeno asks.

Shrugging, Mark says, “Fine.”

“You know you can tell us anything, right?”

He does. If there were anyone he would trust with his secrets, it would be Jeno and Renjun. The problem is, Mark doesn’t want to burden them. Can’t. And, as he had said to Taeyong last night, it would change how they look at him and he doesn’t think he could bear it.

“I’ll be all right,” he says. Renjun snorts up ahead. “I will be,” he presses. “It isn’t anything to worry yourself with.”

The corners of Jeno’s lips downturn. “But we do. You’re our friend. Of course, we worry for you. Seeing you struggle—It isn’t nice.”

Renjun has stopped to glance back at them, his eyes narrow and his body tense. He has never been the kind of person to speak out his feelings, or even show them, but Mark has grown to learn that Renjun’s care is somewhat tough love, a harsh affection. The way he stands screams that he cares and has no idea how to express it. Not like how Jeno does with words and small touches.

“Truly,” he insists. “I _will_ be fine. Everyone has nightmares.”

“You have a lot,” Renjun comments and Mark tries not to wince. “Listen, we understand that there are things you would rather not tell us about, but if they are tearing you down then, perhaps, you should think about talking to someone. Anyone. That wasn’t the first time you have woken up screaming.”

“And calling out a name,” adds Jeno.

Even though he wants to ask, he holds his tongue. “Thank you for your concern. I’ll think about it. For now, I can handle it.”

Jeno and Renjun exchange silent glances before starting forward again, allowing the conversation to fall. They make it a little farther in the trees before Renjun halts in his steps, squinting at the ground. Dropping into a squat, he pushes back some branches of a bush.

“What is it?” Mark asks.

“This isn’t a deer,” he explains, pointing at an indent in the dirt. Large and rather boot-like. “A person.”

Jeno steps up. “Someone from the other hunting party?”

Shaking his head, Renjun says, “No. They went in the other direction and this is fresh. Not from yesterday.”

“Loup Garou?” suggests Mark, gripping at the hilt of his sword. He gazes out into the trees, but there is nothing there. Nothing worth noting. “We would smell them, wouldn’t we?”

“Whoever came through here is suppressing their scent slightly. There isn’t much to take from it. And Loup Garou would never think of doing that. They don’t care enough.”

Jeno tilts his head. “A wanderer, maybe? Someone trying to make their way through the forest.”

Standing up and brushing out his pants, Renjun says, “Possibly. They went that way.”

“Is it best to follow?”

“Probably not.”

Still, Renjun goes, and Mark and Jeno have no choice but to follow. They let him lead them through the trees and over roots and rocks, farther and farther into the forest. As they go, Mark keeps an eye out around them, waiting for something to jump out at them. However, the trees are quiet. Wherever this person went, they clearly know how to vanish well. The only thing that betrays them is their footprints.

Renjun keeps a steady pace. Every once in a while, he stops, takes in the trail, and starts off again. Always a quiet worker, Jeno and Mark leave him to his job. Talking too much is a distraction that could very well lead them into a place they wouldn’t wish to be.

“They are close,” Renjun states as he comes to a stop again. “Not too far away. Should we fan out?”

Mark nods. “Whistle if something happens.”

Splitting up has never been a bad idea for them. They never stay too far away from one another, always within earshot. After so many hunts, the whistle becomes routine and Mark trusts them to come if he calls. Just like they trust him to come when they do.

Mark makes his way to the left, Jeno to the right, and Renjun following the trail straight. Even as he moves further away, he can hear their faint steps against the forest floor. All of them had mastered the art of suppressing their scents. Not completely, but enough that their target won’t know they are coming. It takes effort, of course. Mark uses a lot of his energy just to keep it at bay. Luckily, Renjun and Jeno don’t have nearly as hard of a time as born betas.

Slowly, he moves along a makeshift path, dodging anything that could make him trip. He keeps calm with his hand on his sword and the other on his bow. His arrows clink together in his quiver as he moves. Everything is so quiet. Almost too quiet. And Mark isn’t sure the person Renjun’s been tracking is even in the area anymore.

It’s rare to have a wanderer at all, let alone someone who is near impossible to locate. Mark was one of the last people his community had picked up. Since then, they have scarcely seen anyone outside their collected group.

Nearing a fallen tree, a whistle rings out. Loud and piercing. Twisting around, he bolts. Another whistle. Mark picks up the pace.

Drawing nearer, Mark hears Renjun shout and the sounds of bodies colliding and falling. He skids to a halt to find a hooded figure kneeling on Renjun’s chest, a dagger to his throat. Without another thought, Mark nocks an arrow and shoots.

It isn’t to kill. Mark has always hated the idea of killing another person, especially when he has no idea who they are and what they truly want. For all he knows, this person is just scared, just protecting themselves.

The arrow zooms past their hood. The person tenses, head shooting up. From where he stands, Mark can’t see their face, only the dark shadow that lays across it.

In that moment, the hesitation, Renjun manages to free his arm and swat the dagger away from him. The hooded figure rears back and Renjun kicks them off. Mark nocks another arrow, ready to shoot. And when the figure dives for the dagger, he does. The arrow imbeds itself into the ground, and the hand reaching out flinches back.

Off to the side, Mark can see the shape of Jeno, rushing to their aid.

“Aim for the shoulder!” Renjun shouts. “Or leg!”

But Mark barely has time to grab another arrow before the figure snatches up the dagger and lunges at him. The bow goes flying from his hands as a body collides with him. They fall back in a tangle of limbs.

Air is knocked out of his lungs and before he can gasp, before he can refill them, he feels the cool tip of a blade against his throat. The weight on his body keeps him pinned. Groaning, he peels his eyes open to see the hooded figure leaning in, face still cast in shadows. They don’t look any bigger than Mark is, so it amazes him how quickly they took him down.

Suddenly, the body atop him freezes and a familiar voice whispers, “Mark?”

The weight lessens as the person sits up, taking the dagger away. Mark lifts himself onto his elbows.

That voice.

He knows that voice.

With a harsh push, the hood falls back, revealing soft, golden locks, round, dark eyes, and skin as tan as gold. Mark’s breath hitches, never fully making it into his lungs.

“Donghyuck?” he manages.

It can’t be, and yet it is. Straddling him, armed with a silver dagger and dressed like a thief in the night, is Donghyuck. Not quite how Mark remembers him. When he left, Donghyuck had been fifteen, still rounded with youth and dancing around with lanky limbs. This Donghyuck has lost the baby fat, his face more mature and his shoulders a little broader. He’s also gained some muscle, judging by the weight. Although, still lighter than Mark himself, he is sure.

No, this Donghyuck is grown up and far more beautiful than Mark remembers him being.

But before he can say another word, Donghyuck punches him in the chest. Mark makes a noise, a mix between a gasp and a whine. It’s a solid, strong hit.

“You fucking idiot!” Donghyuck shouts as he lands another punch. “You left! You ran away and you said nothing!”

Mark tries to dodge the hits before realizing he can’t do that with Donghyuck so close to him, stopping any escape, and simply catches Donghyuck’s wrists in his hands. When he looks back up, Donghyuck’s eyes are glistening with unshed tears.

“You left,” Donghyuck gasps. “You left me.”

Mark tugs on his hands, letting Donghyuck fall forward into him, and wraps his arms around him. He holds him close as if he still can’t decide if this is a dream or not. The smell of sunflowers and the heat of the sun on a warm summer’s day and crystalized honey fills his nose. There’s something on top of all that; fresh hay and the mist of lake water, but it’s faint and Mark tries to focus on what he knows. Honey and heat. Donghyuck. It smells like Donghyuck. It smells like home.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, “I’m so sorry.”

“Wh—Minhyung? What is happening?” Renjun’s voice comes from somewhere behind Donghyuck.

His words seem to snap Donghyuck out of it because within seconds he’s shoving Mark back onto the ground and standing up. Mark watches as he picks up his dagger and shoves it into the sheath at his ankle.

It’s strange, Mark thinks, seeing Donghyuck after three years. He’s still Donghyuck, but isn’t, at the same time. And, yep, Mark still yearns for him, still wants to pull him back and ask him all the questions that are forming in his head. How he is, how his mother is, how Havenfield is. Everything.

Donghyuck glances at him and, after a moment, he holds out his hand to help Mark up. Standing face to face, Mark realizes that he’s a little taller than Donghyuck now—for so long Donghyuck was taller and then they were the same height—and, with him no longer suppressing his scent, he smells as sweet as he did the moment he presented.

“You’re here,” he breathes, hand still in Donghyuck’s. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

Dark eyes flitting over Mark’s face, Donghyuck says, “You’re alive. You’ve been alive this whole time?”

“Does someone want to tell me what’s fucking happening?” Renjun snaps. “First, he attacks me. Second, you’re all friendly with him. What the fuck?”

Licking his lips, Mark steps back, his fingers falling from around Donghyuck’s, and says, “Renjun, Jeno, meet Donghyuck. My best friend.”

“Your best friend?” Jeno tilts his head, scanning Donghyuck from head to toe. “The same one you called out to in your sleep?”

Mark’s ears go instantly hot. It’s even worse when Donghyuck shoots him a questioning expression, eyebrows raised. Clearing his throat, he says, “Jeno, please.”

“In your sleep, huh?” Donghyuck inquires, corner of his lips twitching. Mark shoves him. Like he used to. Like it’s normal. Both of them must realize it because the teasing falls cold and they simply stare at each other, unsure of what to do. “You—You have been here? This whole time?”

“Yes,” he replies.

Donghyuck frowns. “We all thought you were dead. Your mother…Gods, what is she going to think?”

Heart clenching, he looks away. “She doesn’t need to know.”

“What do you mean? Of course, she does. Everyone does.” Donghyuck goes to reach out, to take his hand again, but he stops himself. As if he isn’t sure he’s allowed. “Seunghwa told us about the dam.”

“What—What did he say?”

“Just that it broke. We recovered your father’s body. Mark, I’m so sorry. We searched for weeks to find you, but we came up with nothing. I guess we didn’t go deep enough into the forest. Where exactly have you been?”

“Here.”

Donghyuck raises a brow. “Where exactly is here?”

“Greenshire,” Renjun replies. “A hidden community at the base of the mountains. You have traveled a long way to find our territory.”

“I…” Donghyuck’s words trail off as he glances back at Mark. He looks lost, confused, maybe even still a bit angry. Mark doesn’t blame him. “This whole time…Everyone will be thrilled to know you’re alive. You,” he pauses, “will be king.”

Beside him, Jeno sucks in a breath. Renjun stills. Mark, himself, runs cold. His head is shaking before he can stop it. Stepping back, he says, “No, I won’t be.”

Donghyuck’s brows are furrowing into a frown once again. “What are you talking about? We need you.”

“Wait,” Renjun says, stepping between the two of them. “Just wait. King? Minhyung?”

“Minhyung?” Donghyuck repeats in a mutter and Mark’s stomach tilts. “He hasn’t gone by that since he became Crown Prince. Just who do you think you have been with for three years?”

“So, your father,” Jeno turns on Mark, “was King Seunghoon? Why did you not tell us? You’re the Crown Prince.”

“No!” It comes out louder, more forceful than he wanted. All of them startle at the echo. Trying to calm his beating heart, he adds, “No, I’m not. Not anymore.”

“Mark,” Donghyuck says as he reaches out once more. This time, Mark winces away. There’s a moment, just a moment, where Donghyuck watches him, analyzes him, searching for something. Then, he glances at Renjun and Jeno and asks, “Can Mark and I have a moment alone?”

Renjun gestures vaguely to the side. “We can leave you here, but Mark can’t locate anything to save his life. Getting back to the clearing will be an endless task. But I can take you to the watering hole. It’s close and Mark can lead you back from there.”

“That’s fine,” Donghyuck says. “Thank you.”

Mark doesn’t move as Renjun starts to lead them away. His body isn’t sure what it wants to do. There are so many complicated feelings and thoughts that he can’t sort it all out. A small part of him can’t even believe that Donghyuck is here, right in front of him. Alive and breathing. It feels impossible.

For years, he had taught himself to believe he would never see anyone from his past. For the last night, he had thought there was a high chance they were all there. Now, Donghyuck’s here and he’s talking about Mark’s mother as if she’s alive and Mark isn’t sure what to do or think. He wants to chase after Donghyuck, take his hand again, just to prove to himself that it really is real. That he really is there.

“You know,” Jeno says, as he stands beside Mark, “he isn’t how I pictured him.”

“And how did you?” Mark asks.

“I don’t know, really. He grew up with you?”

Nodding, he says, “Yes, since we were very young.”

“You call for him. A lot. Are you happy he’s here?”

He attempts to shove the information to the back of his mind. He knows that, over the time he’s been away, all he dreams about is home. Donghyuck stars in a lot of his dreams and nightmares. To hear it be spoken about so outwardly makes him shift on the spot.

As for being happy? Mark isn’t completely sure. His heart is. His body sings because all his instincts are catching up to him, remembering the moment Donghyuck presented and how much he wanted to go to him. That feeling is back, almost more intense than it was before. Then again, Mark has completely presented now.

However, having Donghyuck here is a recipe for disaster. Mark can’t ever go back and he can’t ever tell Donghyuck why. He will need to say good bye, but at what cost?

“I don’t know,” he admits.

“Well, let us see what to expect from him, shall we?”

That, Mark thinks, is always the question when it comes to Donghyuck. Still, he trails after Jeno. Up ahead, he spots Renjun and Donghyuck, wandering side by side through the trees. It doesn’t seem as though they are saying much. Renjun has always been wary of strangers—he had been with Mark, as well—and Donghyuck. Well, he isn’t sure. When they were young, Donghyuck would talk to strangers all the time. Now, however, Mark gets the feeling that Donghyuck is a little more tightlipped.

His heart moves up into his throat by the time they come to the edge of the trees. It slopes down to a small watering hole that glistens in the afternoon sun. He knows Renjun and Jeno are going to leave them alone and Mark isn’t sure he wants that. Being alone with Donghyuck feels dangerous.

“Give me your bow,” says Jeno as he starts to take it from Mark’s shoulder, along with his quiver. “We’ll meet you back home. Be safe.”

He wants to tell them both to stay, to not leave him, but he bites his tongue and nods. He lets Jeno take his bow and arrows, effectively stripping him of the only thing that made him feel protected, other than his sword.

“I apologize for trying to kill you,” he hears Donghyuck say to Renjun.

Shrugging, Renjun replies, “I did try to shoot an arrow through your head. It’s only fair.”

“I thought you were trying to attack me since you were tracking my path,” Donghyuck explains. “If I had known—”

“Let bygones be bygones, yeah?” Then, Renjun turns to Mark. “Keep an eye out. Don’t stay for too long. Jeno and I will try and scrounge up what we can.” When Mark goes to open his mouth, to tell them he should be hunting alongside them, Renjun holds up a hand to cut him off. “You owe us.”

With that, Renjun takes Jeno’s arm and pulls him back into the trees. Mark watches them disappear, not sure how to look at or talk to Donghyuck and, when he does turn around, finally, he finds Donghyuck at the edge of the water, stripping his cloak off and kicking off his boots.

Mark startles. “What are you doing?”

“I’ve been in that forest for too long. I’m getting in. Or am I not allowed?” Donghyuck places his hands on his hips, his tunic untucked and his pants rolled up to his knees.

“I mean, yes, you are, but—” The words get caught in his throat as Donghyuck gives a stiff nod and promptly lifts his tunic up over his head. He can’t stop his gaze from drinking in the naked skin of Donghyuck’s back as he steps into the water. He ends with a measly, “I thought you wanted to talk.”

If Donghyuck hears his voice crack, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he drifts farther into the water until it brushes the edge of his trousers. Carefully, he cups the water in his hands, tilts his head back, and pours it on his face. In the sun, he glows.

Mark swallows. “How did you get here?”

“I walked,” comes the reply and Mark has to fight himself from smiling at the sarcasm that slaps back at him. So very much Donghyuck. Running his hands through his hair, wetting it, Donghyuck glances back over his shoulder and asks, “Does it matter? I’m here now.”

And he is. Right there. Glistening under water and sunlight and, even from this distance, he can smell his scent and how sweet it is. It’s a lot and, yet, not enough.

Donghyuck turns ever so slightly and that’s when Mark sees it. He sees it and he can’t keep his eyes off of it. His jaw tightens, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword, because there, around Donghyuck’s neck, is a golden chain with a straw tassel hanging from it.

He steps closer to the edge of the water. “You’re engaged?”

Following Mark’s gaze to the necklace that dangles from his neck, hitting the bottom of his sternum, Donghyuck stills. It’s as if even he hadn’t realized he was wearing it. His fingers come up to tug on it, like a nervous habit, and, slowly, his eyes drag up to meet Mark’s.

“Yes,” he says. “And no.”

“No?”

Sighing, Donghyuck trudges back to the shore. Water sloshes around his ankles as he makes his way to his boots. For a few minutes, he says nothing and Mark wants him to. Needs him to. Because now he can’t stop his mind from spinning, from imagining someone else courting his best friend, touching him, loving him. Doing all the things Mark should have been doing.

It has never been clear to him when he started feeling so deeply for Donghyuck, but maybe that was the point. Friends for so long and caring for Donghyuck became second nature. Loving him was like breathing. And Mark thinks it might have been the moment Donghyuck presented that he really started to notice it, even though it had clearly been there for so much longer.

So, he glares at the talisman around Donghyuck’s neck and he bares his teeth without thinking. Donghyuck, who’s leaning against a tree to get his boots on, notices and grimaces.

“Do you even know what happened after you left?” Donghyuck asks. His question snaps Mark’s instincts to tear that stupid tassel back slightly. His alpha is still growling, deep inside him.

“I—”

“People think you are dead, Mark,” he presses. “Your mother and I…We didn’t believe it at first. I don’t think we ever truly did. Somehow, I think I always knew you were alive, out there somewhere but I just couldn’t find you. Seunghwa came back with your father’s body, told us you were dead, and then took the throne.”

“Uncle is king?” He supposes that makes sense. His uncle would naturally be the next one in line. Still, it’s odd to picture him on a throne, with a crown on his head. He never seemed like the type to want that life.

Donghyuck scoffs. “Of course, he is. He claimed it almost immediately. We let him. How could we not? He—Months later, he brought the Loup Garou into Havenfield. Our kingdom is dying, Mark. And your uncle is the reason.”

“But why would he do that? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Doesn’t it? He’s always been jealous of your father and what he had. And then you,” Donghyuck gestures to him, “young and full of life and so good. You were going to take the throne from him. A second time. Now, the power has gone to his head. He and the Loup Garou have some kind of deal. They get to take what they want and he gets to rule our kingdom into the ground.”

Mark’s brows furrow as Donghyuck’s words hit him. He just can’t believe that his uncle, someone who loved him—or who he thought loved him—would betray so many people like that.

“I leave when I can,” Donghyuck continues. “Escape the guards, if only for a little bit of time, to find help. This is the longest I’ve ever been away and I found you. Our rightful king.”

“I already told you that I can’t go back.”

“But why?”

Mark looks away. “I just can’t. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me!” he snaps. “Explain it all to me. I think I deserve that much.”

“And you still won’t tell me who you are engaged to,” Mark counters.

Gritting his teeth, it’s Donghyuck’s turn to turn his gaze away. He glares at the dirt. “Your uncle, believe it or not, wanted to marry me off. It was one of the first things he tried to do.” Mark’s stomach churns when narrowed, dark eyes meet his. “Your mother fought for me. I don’t know why he cared so much about my position in the castle, but he wanted me gone and the best way was to marry me off to some alpha, gods know where. The only way to keep me safe and keep me in Havenfield was to get engaged with someone there.”

It’s so faint and, perhaps, that’s to be expected. If Donghyuck has been away from Havenfield for days, the scent would have lessened. Even still, Mark picks up the fresh hay and the smell of mist in the morning and it hits him.

“Jaemin,” he breathes. “You’re engaged to Jaemin?”

Donghyuck winces. “Neither of us wanted it. We just saw an opportunity and took it. He pretends to be my doting fiancé and I get to stay with my mother, with yours, at home. I never planned to marry him and I still don’t.”

“And how long do you think that will last? Three years of engagement and you still aren’t married? Uncle hasn’t pressed it to happen?”

“Of course, he has,” Donghyuck spits. “Every moment he sees me or Jaemin. We just can’t. _I_ can’t.” Something twists painfully inside his chest as Donghyuck’s voice wavers, as he stares at Mark, unblinking. Lower lip trembling, he adds, “I thought you ran away because of me.”

“What?”

Taking a deep breath, Donghyuck rolls his eyes up to the sky. Then, he meets Mark’s gaze once more. It’s strong, as if challenging Mark to look away. Except, maybe not quite because Mark can see the way his fingers grip at his pants and his body starts to curl in on itself. Like he’s nervous, or scared, or embarrassed. Maybe all of them.

“I thought you left because I presented and you had even more of a chance of marrying me,” he says, softly. “And you didn’t want to. I thought you ran away and the dam broke and you died while trying to get away from me.” He shakes his head, gold locks falling into his eyes as he finally looks down, away. “I thought you didn’t want me and I was the cause of your death.”

It hits Mark so hard that he steps back. He’s horrified because, _no_ , he would never. But Donghyuck doesn’t know that. He was in the middle of presenting and all he knows is that Mark was outside his door at one point and then he was gone. And then he was pronounced dead. He’s had no other story to collect over the years and Mark feels sick to his stomach to think Donghyuck would believe he would do such a thing.

Gingerly, he takes a step forward. Donghyuck must catch the movement out the corner of his eye, because he tries to twist away, into the tree behind him, and Mark rushes to grasp his wrists and keep him still.

This close, Mark can feel the heat radiating off his body. Up this close, Mark can see just the way Donghyuck has matured, how beautiful he has become—and he’s always been beautiful, Mark thinks. This close, he struggles to think as Donghyuck’s scent sours slightly, thinking he’s done wrong. It shows in the way he continues to turn away, the way he refuses to look up.

“I thought you didn’t want me,” he whispers. Broken and airy. Vulnerability falls from his lips like honey, sticking to every inch of Mark’s skin.

“I did,” he mutters back. Donghyuck’s eyes snap up with his lips parting slightly and Mark finds himself staring at them. Something in his scent sweetens, just on the edge of hesitance. “I still do. Always have.”

His pupils are dilated, his cheeks pinkening. There’s something inherently pretty about it. Mark wants to immortalize it, to burn this image in his mind, because he doesn’t think he’s ever wanted to touch something or someone so much in his life and, yet, here Donghyuck is, after years of being separated. Donghyuck has always been attractive, even in his awkward stages of life, and, growing up, Mark thought he had simply been envious of his skin, of his eyes, of his heart-shaped lips. Now, he knows all he really wanted was to keep him like a precious gem, to touch him, to have him. If Donghyuck will let him. He isn’t envious, no. He’s craving.

When he drags his fingers over Donghyuck’s cheek, he feels the shudder run through them both. They’ve been close before. When they wrestled, when they would lie next to each other late into the night. Just not like this. No, never like this.

Tipping his head forward, he presses his forehead again Donghyuck’s and inhales. Something between them spikes and his vision wavers for just a moment. He can feel Donghyuck’s fingers twisting into the trim of his tunic, hesitant and careful, as if he isn’t sure he should. So, Mark steps into him, caging Donghyuck between himself and the tree.

Donghyuck’s breath hitches, his scent spiking sweetly, and Mark wants to just continue to breathe him in. His voice is barely a whisper, barely audible, as he admits, “I wanted you before I presented.”

“Me, too,” Donghyuck all but chokes out.

When their lips collide it’s like the world unravels. Everything goes away and all he can think and feel is Donghyuck and his warmth and his touch. It’s intoxicating, so overwhelming. He finds himself leaning in, trying to get as close as he possibly can while Donghyuck’s grip on his tunic tightens, yanking him inwards until they meld together.

As he tilts Donghyuck’s head, thumbs rubbing along his jaw, Mark coaxes him to open up, to relax. It’s almost as if the tension is starting to overcome him—the nerves and the excitement and everything in between—and Donghyuck is somehow so eager he’s become stiff. Gentle touches and soft caresses seem to do the trick and, before he knows it, Donghyuck is letting go, and when their tongues touch, Donghyuck positively keens.

A whine slips from his throat and everything inside Mark lights aflame. The growl that escapes him is full of nothing short of arousal, and at the sound of it, Donghyuck presses closer, arching his back and, effectively, rutting against Mark. It’s a sinful action, something he never thought he’d come close to feeling, especially from Donghyuck, and that makes him desire it more.

He’s sliding his hands down to Donghyuck’s hips—to keep him still so they don’t do anything indecent in a spot they may get caught or to help him gain more friction, Mark isn’t sure—when he feels something dig into his chest. The smell of hay and mist fills his nostrils and Mark rips away. Eyes still closed, Donghyuck chases his lips, but Mark’s attention is stolen by the straw talisman around Donghyuck’s neck.

Eyelashes fluttering, Donghyuck finally opens his eyes to figure out what has caused them to stop. He follows Mark’s gaze and the corners of his lips downturn. They’re red and swollen and Mark feels a bit proud that he did that, that he was the one that made Donghyuck’s stare darken, made that blush flourish. The tassel manages to ruin some of that, however.

Donghyuck’s fingers come up, perhaps to pull on it, except they never make it. Mark growls, catching his hand. They may have evolved, become something as close to human as possible, but the instinct is still there. Something deep and innate that Mark can’t stop even if he tried. All he sees is a claim that isn’t his and he hates it. Loathes it. Absolutely detests it.

So, he does what the alpha inside him whispers to him and rips it up over Donghyuck’s neck and throws it into the water. It splashes several feet away. Donghyuck watches, hair slightly mussed, and frowns.

“I’m going to need that when I go back,” he says.

Mark shakes his head, grips Donghyuck’s hips, and presses him into the trunk of the tree once more. “I really don’t think you will,” is all he says before kissing him again. Harder, maybe a little more desperate than before. Maybe even a little possessively. The only reason he thinks he can get away with it is because, even if it has been three years, he has no doubt Donghyuck could put him on his ass if he’s against anything Mark does to him.

There’s strength in him. Fire. Fight. Mark can tell even as their lips slot together. Donghyuck may keen, may sigh, may melt into him, but he’s also matching everything Mark gives him with the same amount of power and passion and desperation.

He runs his hands across soft skin, warm to the touch as if heating from the inside out. Mark thinks he may be the same. Overheated, especially down south. Donghyuck must feel it because, in the midst of a kiss, he smirks and rolls his hips and, gods, he’s still such a brat. Mark slams his hips back. They can’t go too far around here. Even if he wants to.

Donghyuck tugs on his tunic and it’s over his head before he can process the action. Arms wind around his neck, hands splay across his upper back. It makes him dizzy. Every stroke of a tongue, every press of a kiss, every time Donghyuck digs his nails into his shoulders and whimpers, has Mark on fire. 

Gentle kisses lay along his cheek and his jaw and Mark sighs. Nothing in his dreams compare to the reality. He lets Donghyuck’s hands and lips wander, to explore and discover. It’s nothing short of amazing.

Mark’s hands tighten on Donghyuck’s hips when he feels teeth scrape along his neck. He inhales a shuddering breath. “Hyuck, we can’t.”

The pressure of Donghyuck’s canines on his skin causes his heart to pound. With a whimper, Donghyuck closes his mouth and nuzzles into the crook of his neck. “I want to.”

It takes a moment for Mark to gently wrestle Donghyuck’s head away from him, to cradle his face in his hands. Donghyuck’s eyes are hooded and dark and the overwhelming smell of honey coats them both. He is falling and Mark is, too, but someone needs to stay lucid for them both.

He leans forward to rub his nose against Donghyuck’s. “Not now.”

The way Donghyuck droops into him, warm and soft, makes Mark long for him even more. His hands drift to either side of Donghyuck’s neck as their cheeks brush. To be this close—Mark wants it. So badly.

In a small voice, Donghyuck whispers, “I want you. My love.” The words are hot on Mark’s ear. “My king.”

Something sparks in Mark’s gut, heat pooling in his stomach, and he jolts forward, pressing himself closer to Donghyuck. His leg wedges itself between Donghyuck’s thighs and that earns him a mewl. A low, deep mewl and, _fuck_ , Donghyuck sounds gone. Mark is pretty sure he isn’t that far behind.

They may have long evolved past being completely controlled by the wolf within them, but the instincts are still there. The instinct to crave and want and take. Mark has never experienced it. Not to the level of this. But his tutors had told him. He just never imagined it would be this strong.

“One day,” Mark promises, moving Donghyuck’s face back into the crook of his neck. “We will, one day. We just can’t today. Not right now.”

“Mark—”

He opens his mouth to lightly press his teeth at the base of Donghyuck’s neck. Not enough to break the skin, but enough to prove that he wants it just as much as Donghyuck does. To be linked in a way they crave so deeply inside themselves. Something that little Mark would have winced at. This Mark, however, this one _wants so much_.

“My love,” he says, words ghosting along Donghyuck’s skin. “My world. _My_ king.”

The sound Donghyuck makes is something he never thought he would hear. A broken, aborted whine in the back of his throat. So needy. It sends shivers down Mark’s spine. Donghyuck trembles in his arms.

“We will claim each other, but not today,” he continues. “There’s too much to think about. Perhaps…Perhaps you can come here.”

Donghyuck tenses. “What?”

“Come here,” Mark repeats. He swallows over the lump that is forming in his throat as he notes the way Donghyuck’s scent dims, a faint sting in his nose. “Live here. With me.”

Pulling away, Donghyuck catches his gaze with narrowed eyes and furrowed brows. There’s still arousal in the way his pupils have blown wide, turning them almost black. A red flush has flown from the tips of his ears, down his neck and his chest. His hair is a mess, his lips swollen. Everything about him screams to be kissed again, except the way he glares and Mark knows not to move. An angry Donghyuck, is a dangerous one. That’s one thing he hasn’t forgotten, over the years.

“Here?” Donghyuck questions. “And what about your mother? My mother?”

His fingers curl around Donghyuck’s wrists when he sees the fists forming. “They can come, too. We can bring them here and—”

A snort breaks him off. Donghyuck shakes his head. “Our mothers are royalty, Mark. Royalty of Havenfield and Iarmos. The don’t live in hidden forest communities. They live to lead and guide and—Mark, do you even know what you’re saying? We can’t leave Havenfield. Not how it is. Not ever. We need to go back. _You_ need to go back.”

Releasing his grip, Mark steps away. “I’m not going back.”

“We need our rightful king,” Donghyuck insists, words practically rubbed into Mark’s chest. “We need you. I need you. With you on the throne—”

“I don’t want to be king!”

Donghyuck’s eyebrows furrow even more. “What happened to you?”

Glancing away, he says, “I don’t expect you to get it. You have no idea what I’ve been through.”

“Because you won’t tell me!”

“You wouldn’t understand,” he tries to explain. Truly, he doesn’t think he would. Donghyuck would try. Oh, he would try desperately, but he would never understand. Not completely. Mark is the reason his father is dead, the reason Havenfield is failing. Going back isn’t an option. They are better without him.

Donghyuck bares his teeth, snatches up his tunic from the ground to throw it over his head, and starts to march off.

“Where are you going?” Mark calls after him.

Spinning around, Donghyuck shouts, “To go save _your_ fucking kingdom! If you won’t do it, then I will!”

Groaning, he says, “Hyuck, don’t. Stay here with me.”

“Stay here while everyone I love, everyone in our country, starves or is murdered? Stay and what? Pretend it doesn’t exist?” All the anger leaks out of him and all Mark can see is sadness and disappointment. He gazes at Mark as if he’s breaking his heart. And he is, Mark supposes. “I watched while my kingdom was conquered. It was ripped away from me and my family. I watched innocents die, my castle burned, my villages pillaged. At the time, I was young and there was nothing I could do.” His shoulders fall, tension failing him. “I won’t let that happen to Havenfield. I can’t. It’s been my home for as long as I remember and I will _not_ let someone destroy it.”

Mark wants to reach out. He wants to bring Donghyuck closer and hug him and apologize. Still, there isn’t anything he can change about it. The past is done and they would never welcome him back. They would never allow a murderer to sit on the throne.

“I can’t go back,” he says, voice breaking.

Donghyuck shakes his head. “I wish I knew what happened to you. I wish I could help, but you won’t let me, and I can’t sit around and wait for you to realize how much you are letting everything good slip through your fingers.”

“If I could, I would.”

“And you can. You just don’t want to!”

“That’s not it at all. I can’t—”

Growling, Donghyuck throws up his hands. “I’m not arguing with you. I don’t have time for that.”

He starts to turn back around, to step back into the trees and disappear for good. Mark grabs his tunic and races after him. Pulling on his wrist, he stops Donghyuck from going any farther.

“Stay,” he pleads. “Even just for the night. Don’t try to go back now. It will be dark in a few hours and I can tell how exhausted you are.”

For a moment, it looks like Donghyuck is about to protest, to refuse. His eyes dart into the forest, almost gauging whether or not he could make the trip before passing out or the sun fades into night. Then, he sighs.

“Fine,” he says. “But I’m not sleeping anywhere near you.”

He wrenches his wrist from Mark’s hold and starts off in a general direction. He has no idea where he’s going and, yet, he still somehow ends up going the right way.

Mark glances back at the watering hole, wishing he could go back just a few minutes prior and start all over again. But he can’t. The past can’t be changed and he has to learn to live with it. So, he slides on his tunic and hurries after Donghyuck, who is still, quite clearly, very mad at him.

Someday, he hopes he can tell Donghyuck the truth. One day, he wants to explain everything. Now, however, he has to keep his mouth shut. It’s the only way to save everyone.


	8. VII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be a double update! The epilogue will be going up, as well.  
> I was going to split this chapter up, but, to be honest, it reads much better as one whole chapter, I think. So...here it is. The final chapter.  
> As mentioned in the tags, there is a war scene. So, blood, swords, stabbing...things like that. Just be forewarned. It's not extremely gruesome, but it's definitely mentioned. 
> 
> Thank you for everyone who has left comments and kudos, or even just read this fic. It really means a lot to me! I can't tell you how much the comments make my day <3
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

By the time they come back, Taeyong is waiting for them. Hovering around him, is a small crowd. One that includes Jeno and Renjun who have clearly put away their weapons. Strangely enough, Taeyong looks unsurprised by Donghyuck at Mark’s side. Who does look surprised, however, is the couple behind him.

“Prince Donghyuck?” Ten gasps.

Donghyuck, mid-step, stops. His eyes snap up toward the sound of Ten’s voice until it settles on his face, and then on Johnny’s, and a look of surprise flits across his expression. Then, right before Mark’s eyes, Donghyuck visibly droops, his scent peaking into something he’s never smelt before. It isn’t sweet, but it isn’t sour either. Almost dim and wilted with a tinge of relief.

His lower lip trembles, his dark eyes glazing over. “Ten.”

Ten is a blur of movement, so fast that he has Donghyuck in his arms before Mark can even blink. They cling to each other, almost desperately. Johnny’s strides are long and sure, but his shoulders aren’t as poised as they were before, and he takes both Ten and Donghyuck in his arms without a second thought to whoever is watching.

The moment Johnny joins, Donghyuck’s scent heightens and Mark feels a tinge of annoyance he can’t stop himself from feeling. He isn’t Donghyuck’s mate and Johnny is clearly mated with a child on the way, so his envy is unwarranted. Still, the alpha inside him doesn’t seem to get the message and he has to look away before he bares his teeth and embarrasses himself.

“You’re alive,” Ten breathes, leaning away to take Donghyuck’s face in his hands. “You made it. We heard you did, but we couldn’t come see for ourselves and—Gods, Donghyuck, I’m so glad you’re alive.”

“How did you—I—I didn’t know you made it,” whispers Donghyuck. He glances to Johnny. “I thought you never made it out.”

Mark watches as Donghyuck buries his face into Ten’s neck and stays there, shoulders trembling. Everything in Mark wants to reach out, comfort him. But Donghyuck is still mad at him and, if he were to reach out, he has no doubt that Donghyuck would snap at him. Maybe even bite him.

No, Donghyuck doesn’t need Mark. He’s never really needed Mark, now that he thinks about it. Donghyuck’s always been the one who could handle things quite well on his own. Strong, determined, and no match to anyone. But—his heart clenches—Donghyuck did _want_ him. Does want him. Gods, he hopes even after their fight that he still wants him.

“Prince Donghyuck?” Mark hears Taeyong question, voice tender as if he’s terrified to break whatever moment is happening.

Johnny nods. “Prince Donghyuck of Iarmos. The Fallen Kingdom. Ten and I used to be on the staff there, before everything happened.”

Ten pulls away from Donghyuck, helping him to wipe at his tears with a faint smile. “When the Loup Garou attacked, we got separated. We never made it to Havenfield. Johnny was injured and we ended up stumbling into Greenshire. We tried to go back, or at least to find out what happened to the royal family, but it was almost impossible. A few days later, a messenger came back from his rounds to tell us Donghyuck and his parents were safe. After that, we couldn’t—we didn’t—”

“It’s okay,” Donghyuck whispers. “It’s okay. You made it.”

“So did you.”

“And what brings you here?” Taeyong asks Donghyuck, who stills.

Dark eyes flick to Mark. As subtly as he can, Mark shakes his head. They can’t know. Jeno and Renjun already do and that’s enough. There can’t be anymore. “I came to find help.”

Johnny frowns. “Help?”

“For Havenfield,” he elaborates. “The kingdom won’t last much longer. Unless we put the rightful king on the throne.”

“Rightful king?” parrots Ten, eyebrows pulling together.

Donghyuck turns on Mark and something flashes in his gaze. Something fiery and striking and Mark wants to leave, wants to run, because there’s so much expectation Donghyuck is throwing at him. Responsibilities Mark can’t do even if he wanted to.

“You never told them,” he says, voice tight.

“Donghyuck—” His name cracks on Mark’s tongue. A helpless plea.

Taeyong moves closer, gaze shifting from Mark to Donghyuck and back again. Mark doesn’t think he can handle it. The crowd fills around them and everyone will know. Everyone will find out.

Heart pounding in his ears, he says, “Don’t.”

“No, you don’t get to ask that of me,” Donghyuck says. “Not when you left. Not when you refuse to do what you’re supposed to be doing.”

“I can’t,” he insists, tone rising into hysterics. “You don’t get it!”

“Then explain it to me! Gods, Mark, your kingdom is dying and you’re out here acting as if it never existed.”

The words are like a slap, but the gasps around him feel like he’s being crushed and that is so much worse.

A flicker of understanding crosses Johnny’s face and before Mark can process it, his head lowers and his body folds. His heart clenches because as soon as Johnny bows, Ten follows. Slowly, all the people who Mark has come to see as equals over the last three years, bow as well. Even Renjun and Jeno, who exchange a glance and fold, albeit a little awkwardly.

“Stop,” he tells them. Taeyong’s shoulders start to drop and Mark reaches out before he can stop himself to take them in his hands and keep him upright. “No, stop. I’m not the king.” When Donghyuck scowls, mouth opening to retort, he presses, “I’m _not_. I can’t be.”

“Perhaps,” Taeyong says, slowly, “we should discuss this later. Once everyone has settled. Your highness—”

“Donghyuck. You can do away with the title. I have no kingdom,” Donghyuck states, flat and harsh and no doubt a jab at Mark.

“Then, Donghyuck, you are welcome to stay with me for however long you plan to stay.”

Donghyuck refuses to look at Mark, but his fists are clenched at his sides and Mark knows that if he were to chance a glance, his face would be marred with a glare. “Until morning. I will be going back.”

“Hyuck,” Mark says that sounds something akin to a plea and a hiss all wrapped into one. Still, Donghyuck doesn’t turn. “Don’t...”

Don’t what? Don’t leave? Don’t disappear? Don’t go back to something that is so clearly ruining your life?

But Mark can’t say any of that because Donghyuck isn’t his, and all he would be doing is causing more issues. Donghyuck is already angry at him for staying back and refusing to help. There’s no way Mark can ask that of him. He wouldn’t do it.

Stubborn until the end. A fighter until the end.

Mark admires it. But he also hates it.

“Of course,” Taeyong says. “This way.”

All the words slip out of him as Donghyuck marches away, without a second glance. Regardless of the annoyance spinning inside him, Donghyuck’s steps are sure and poised, shoulders rolled back until his back is straight.

His body is screaming at him to go and pull him back, but he digs his heels into the dirt and roots himself to the spot.

Johnny is the first to speak. “You’re Prince Mark, then.”

Mark grips at the hilt of his sword. “No, just Minhyung.”

It takes everything in his power to turn and walk away, to separate himself further and further from the one person he’s been yearning for for years. It makes every part of his body ache and cry. Still, he goes. He makes his way back to his shared room with Jeno and Renjun trailing behind him. And when he makes it, he collapses onto the bed and throws his face in his hands.

“When we found you,” Jeno starts, voice barely a whisper, “you were running away, weren’t you?”

Sighing, he sits up and prepares himself for the worst. “Yeah, I was.”

Renjun frowns. “Why?”

Because I killed my father, he wants to say. Instead, he decides to say, “Because I wasn’t ready. My father died and it was too much all at once. So, I ran. I’m not meant to be a king. I never was.”

“Well, apparently Donghyuck thinks you are.”

Mark coughs a laugh, pathetic and small. “He sees more in me than I think I deserve.”

“So, you’re just going to let him go back on his own? Without you?” asks Jeno.

He doesn’t have much choice. Donghyuck isn’t going to stay. Even if Mark begs him to. He’s going to go and fight because that’s who he is, who he always has been.

It’s just difficult to process because everything feels so out of control. The moment he thinks he has Donghyuck back, Donghyuck plans on walking away. Or maybe it’s Mark who’s walking away. Either way, they are both losing, both failing.

And maybe Donghyuck is right in the fact that Mark is a coward, but his choices aren’t just because he’s scared. Part of it is that he just doesn’t feel worthy. It feels wrong to take his father’s throne after what happened because it was all his fault. He did this. He doomed his kingdom. Does he really have a right to go back and demand to take the throne, the crown?

Renjun sits beside him. “Min—Mark. Are you sure you want to do this?”

No. No, he isn’t.

“Yes,” he lies. “I am.”

*

True to his word, Mark keeps his distance. Dinner comes and the door to Taeyong’s cabin stays closed. He knows Donghyuck is in there because Johnny and Ten disappear inside with an extra plate of food from the pit. And despite everything, despite everyone knowing who he is, Mark eats with everyone else in the warm summer evening. He avoids all the curious glances, all the disapproving looks from the Elders, and eats.

Come morning, Mark is sluggish, having spent most of the night tossing and turning. By the time he pulls himself out of bed, Jeno and Renjun have already left to help outside. He straps his sword to his side, like always, and heads out. Warm air and bright light hits him on the way out the door.

It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust. While they do, he can hear the clanking of swords and the puffs of heavy breathing. He follows it, only to find that some of the other teens have gathered to train. Off to the side, Taeyong, Johnny, and Ten watch.

Jeno is in the middle of a circle, sword tight in his grasp, while he circles Donghyuck. Sweat has bled into their collars, rolling down their faces in beads. Clearly, they have been at it for a while. Which is of no surprise to Mark. Even as a child, Donghyuck could last double the amount of time Mark could in a spar, and Jeno’s known for his stamina.

Strength versus cunning is what comes to Mark’s mind as he watches their swords collide.

“It’s been fifteen minutes and neither of them look as if they are about to back down,” says Renjun as he comes up beside Mark. In his hands is his dagger and a stone. He drags it along the edge of the blade to sharpen it. “Your boy is a menace.”

Mark’s ears burn as he glances down at his boots. “He isn’t my boy.”

“Could have fooled me. He smelled like you the moment you two came back.” There’s a teasing lilt to his words that have Mark feeling even hotter. The sun certainly doesn’t help. “You said he was your best friend, but I feel as if there’s more to that story.”

“There isn’t really,” Mark replies. He finds himself looking at Donghyuck, the way his body twirls and strikes. Golden, poised, lethal. “There was never a chance for more. But we were to be married. If our presenting worked out.”

“Apparently, it did,” says Renjun. “You seem quite taken with him. Will you marry him now?”

If Mark had his way, if things weren’t the way they were, he would. He knows he would. Nothing would be able to stop him from taking Donghyuck as his mate, as his husband, as his alpha partner. He would want nothing more than to be by Donghyuck’s side.

Except, nothing is his way and things are the way they are and Mark can’t rope Donghyuck into something like that when they plan on continuing with their lives as is. Donghyuck will go back and Mark will stay.

Donghyuck hits the hilt of Jeno’s sword, twists, and pulls. With a hiss, Jeno releases his sword and it drops onto the dirt. The local kids cheer and Donghyuck—Donghyuck beams before holding out a hand for Jeno to shake. Good natured. Just like Master Dong taught them.

Ignoring, Renjun’s question, Mark says, “Come on,” and moves the two of them closer to Taeyong, who greets them with an easy smile. Johnny and Ten sit next to each other, their words quiet as they talk. Something about the way Ten shifts closer, his lips at Johnny’s ear and his hand on his own stomach—like a protective barrier—feels intimate and Mark looks away.

“You did well,” Taeyong says as Jeno wanders over, sword back in his hand.

Behind him, Donghyuck trails after. For a brief moment, their eyes meet and Mark thinks Donghyuck may say something, anything, but then he’s looking away with an expression made of stone. Yes, he thinks, Donghyuck is still very much angry at him.

“Thank you,” Jeno replies. “Donghyuck is a great opponent. It’s really too bad you are leaving. I would love to spar some more. Trade secrets on how to win.”

Donghyuck smiles, slight and guarded. “I would love to. But, as you said, I have to leave.”

“We’ve procured a horse,” Johnny tells him. “It will take you down the path back to the border.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank Taeyong. He’s the one giving it up. That being said,” Johnny stands and helps Ten to his feet, “we should be leaving, as well. Rally the hunters.”

Donghyuck furrows his brow, lips thinned, but doesn’t say anything. At the smell of his scent souring, Mark knows something is happening and Donghyuck does not approve.

“The hunters?” he inquires. “Why?”

“To fight,” Ten replies. “We agreed to help Donghyuck. Of course, we will still need to ask them, but I can’t see why they would disagree. Working together to eliminate the Loup Garou would be beneficial to all of us.”

Mark is at a loss for words and he can’t help but look to Donghyuck, as if he has all the answers to his unasked questions.

Donghyuck, of course, bristles at the gaze. “At least someone wants to fight for our home. If you won’t, Johnny and his hunters will.”

“You could die,” Mark says. “You could _all_ die.”

“For what’s right,” is the response. “You can sit here in your clearing and pretend that there is no issue, but I am going back to a place that is riddled with murderers and a kingdom that is crumbling. I will fight for it. It’s still worth saving.”

“Why?”

Donghyuck spins on him, eyes blazing and jaw set. “Because I can’t keep doing this! Because, for the last three years, I have been watching people I love get hurt over and over again. I won’t let that happen. I’m not asking them to fight with me. They are choosing to. And I was hoping you would do the same.”

“You know I can’t,” he says, voice breaking.

“No, I really don’t.” Donghyuck shakes his head. “The Mark I know was a fighter. He was a good prince and would have been a great leader. Where did he go?”

Mark crosses his arms. Out of defiance or protection, he has no idea. “He isn’t here anymore.”

Silence stretches between them. Then, Donghyuck sheathes his sword and asks, “Where is the horse? I must get going. It will still take a day on horseback and I really should start before I end up in the moonlight near the end.”

“I will walk you,” Ten says. He loops his arm through Donghyuck’s.

“It was nice to meet you,” Jeno tells him.

Donghyuck smiles at him and Renjun. “Always a pleasure.” Then, his gaze flicks to Mark and his smile falls. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Mark.”

Mark shoves his hands into his pockets to try and stop them from reaching out as Ten and Donghyuck walk away.

“You’re just going to let him leave?” Jeno whispers to him.

“I can’t stop him.” No one can. “I’m not his keeper.”

Renjun frowns. “Perhaps not, but you are his friend. And he needs you.”

“He doesn’t need me,” he tries to tell them. “He’s never needed me.”

“It sounds like he does.”

Mark spins on him. “You don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“All I know is that you ran away and refuse to take responsibility for it,” Renjun states.

He doesn’t want to fight. All of the fight has left him, but the irritation is still there and Renjun speaks as if he knows all of Mark’s secrets when he has no idea. He grits his teeth and walks away.

“You’re running away again, are you?” calls Renjun. It gathers looks from the people around them. “Because you’re nothing more than a coward. A scared little prince. All those years of trying to figure out who you were and this is our answer.

Blood boils in his ears as he twists around to march back and shove Renjun. “Shut up!”

Renjun shoves him back. “You left the people who cared about and for what? Your kingdom is dying and you want to just let it happen. No wonder Donghyuck is pissed at you.”

“I can’t do anything to help them. Nothing I do will help them.”

“Anything would be better than this.”

“You know _nothing_.”

Renjun throws his hands up, eyes narrowed in a glower. “How can anyone understand you if you won’t explain yourself?”

“I can’t, all right? I just can’t! And I just—” He makes a noise, something akin to a growl and a whine. He steps back and Renjun’s expression softens. “I can’t.”

And he does what he does best. He runs.

He shoves his way through the crowd that has collected and burst through the trees in the direction of the watering hole. There’s no one there when he arrives. Collapsing against one of the trees ungracefully, he presses the heels of his hands to his eyes and groans.

The worst part is that both Donghyuck and Renjun are right. If he just told them the truth, it would all be easier, but he can’t. He just can’t. It isn’t an option.

He swings his fists back to hit the tree. The bark cuts into his skin. “They don’t get it.” Tipping his head back, he squints into the sun. “Nothing will change if I go back. They’ll just find out and I’ll be out on my own again.” Sliding down the tree, he brings his knees to his chest and hangs his head. “I can’t do this alone. You said you would always be here,” he whispers as he feels his sword dig into his hip. The same sword his father gave him. With some difficulty, he pulls it from the sheath and tosses it onto the grass. The lion’s head at the end of the hilt glints back at him. The backs of his eyes burn. “You’re not here and it’s all my fault. Everything is all my fault.”

“Minhyung?”

Startled, Mark is quick to rub at his eyes. “Taeyong.”

Taeyong takes in Mark’s balled up form and smiles. Quietly, he moves to sit beside him, gaze cast out over the water. “Quite the couple of days, don’t you think?”

“I wish things could go back to the way they were,” he mutters.

Taeyong hums. “Before you came here? Or before people found out?”

The questions sinks to the bottom of his stomach and Mark squeezes his legs closer. He feels like a child, lost and confused and scared. He feels useless and pathetic. Somedays, he hears his father in his head, telling him he is so much more than what he has become, but Mark can’t seem to grasp it, can’t seem to understand it.

He isn’t. Not anymore.

Mark stopped being a prince, stopped being Mark, the moment he ran.

“They’re asking me to be someone I can’t be,” he says.

“Who you can’t be? Or who you don’t want to be?”

Another pair of questions Mark has no idea how to answer.

“Who do you want to be?” Taeyong inquires, softly.

“I don’t know anymore. I thought I did. Everything is too confusing.”

“Do you want to know what I think?” Picking his head up, Mark looks over at him with a furrowed brow. Taeyong tears his gaze off the water to smile. “A brave man.”

“I don’t feel like one,” he sighs. “I feel like my past proves that. All I did was run. All I do is run. Donghyuck’s right. I’m not the Mark he once knew. I’m not even sure I’m Minhyung.”

“You are Seunghoon’s boy,” Taeyong states.

Mark sits up. “What?”

“That’s who you are.”

“I don’t—It isn’t that easy.”

“And why not?”

“Because it isn’t,” he snaps. “He’s dead and I…” His voice trails off, cracking slightly. “I can’t be the son he wanted.”

Slowly, Taeyong stands. He steps up to the edge of the water, the sun glittering off it like a thousand diamonds. “You can try to run from your past, but it will always be there. To learn from. To expand on. And if you hide from it, it will find you. You have forgotten who you are. Perhaps, it’s time to remember.”

“Remember,” Mark mumbles. “Remember what?”

“Who you are.”

“I don’t understand.”

Taeyong gestures for him to get on his feet. Carefully, he picks up the sword and passes it to Mark, who takes it gingerly. The lion sparkles and something in him aches.

“You are more than what you have become,” Taeyong says. “You are the king’s son. The one true heir. And he wouldn’t have wanted any of this for you, if he didn’t believe you could do it. That is what I believe.”

“But he isn’t…He isn’t here. What’s the point if he’s gone?”

“Is he?” Taeyong places his hand over Mark’s heart. “Or have you just forgotten where he’s moved to?”

Mark blinks, tears burning. “What if I can’t do it?”

“Your father believed in you. Donghyuck believes in you. So do I. You will be a great king, Mark. You just need to remember who you are and who you would rather continue to be.”

He runs his fingers over the lion’s head, remembering the moment he laid eyes on it, the moment he realized that his father thought him worthy enough to have his own, custom sword. This sword, passed from his father’s hands to his own and never once left his side all these years.

“I have to go back,” he says. He lifts his gaze to find Taeyong smiling at him. “I need a horse. Do we even have any more?”

Horses seemed to be sparse in the community. The clearing just isn’t big enough to give them the space they need.

“You will find that we have everything we could possibly need if you look hard enough,” says Taeyong. “I will get you a horse. And I will rally the hunters.”

Mark’s eyes widen. “You’re coming with me?”

“You will have to go on ahead. Take Jeno and Renjun with you. Johnny will collect his hunters and I will collect mine. Leave the gate open for us. I have a feeling you will need the support if you plan on taking the throne.”

“I—Thank you.” He grips the sword. “For everything.”

Taeyong takes Mark’s shoulders in his hands. “Go be the king we know you can be.”

And this time, when he runs, it isn’t out of fear. It’s out of courage.

*

Mark isn’t sure where Taeyong finds the horses, but he’s too preoccupied to ask. He spends his remaining minutes in the clearing collecting what he needs and dragging Jeno and Renjun along with him.

He’s climbing up into the saddle when Renjun asks, “We’re going to Havenfield to fight your crazy uncle for the throne?”

“That’s the idea,” Mark replies.

“He isn’t going to like that.”

Not at all, Mark thinks. Then again, he doesn’t like the idea of an uncle he thought of so close to his heart destroying his home, so who has disappointed who?

It’s not like he wants to start a war, that he wants this to end in a fight. If he can go back and somehow bring peace onto Havenfield and talk his uncle into getting the Loup Garou out, he would rather do that. But something tells him that things won’t go that smoothly.

Part of him still can’t believe it. His uncle had never seemed to be the type of man to do such a thing. He cared for Mark and his brother. He never seemed unhappy with his life. For him to take the throne and do something like this feels wrong.

Mark thought that everything would be fine if he left. Now, according to Donghyuck, that wasn’t the case, in the end.

“How long will it take to get there?” Mark asks.

Atop his horse, Renjun says, “A little less than a day to get through the forest. After that, it’s flat land. Easy ride.”

“Are they going to be okay? With no path?” He rubs at his horse’s mane as it huffs.

“These ones have been trained in the forest,” Jeno explains. “They should be fine. Renjun knows the safest way to the border. Just don’t push them too hard. The last thing we need is an accident and a lame horse.”

Renjun leads his horse to the front and looks back at them. “Ready?”

“Let’s go.”

They take off through the trees. Johnny and Ten have already left the clearing, heading back to their own. Donghyuck, of course, was already gone by the time he managed to come back from the watering hole, and, no matter how fast they seem to push their horses, it seems as though he’s been moving as fast as them. Nearly impossible to catch up.

Listening to Jeno, Mark takes his horse as carefully through the path as possible. It isn’t as rocky as what he’s used to travelling on, but it’s better to play it safe. Still, he wants to go faster. He knows the moment they break through the trees he’s going to run. Full speed.

“Do you have a plan?” asks Jeno.

“No. I don’t.”

He will have to figure it out as they go. There’s no way to even plan because Mark isn’t even sure he can make it into the castle, let alone see his uncle. It doesn’t help that everyone believes him to be dead.

His nerves peak the moment he catches sight of the edge of the forest. The sun is starting to hang lower and it glows orange, bright and unrelenting. As soon as they break through the tree-line, Mark takes off through abandoned, over-grown farm land. They’ve come out near one of the villages; the closest one to the lake Mark thought he would never see again.

He has no reason to search for the place that forced him to run. Still, from such a distance, he can see it out of the corner of his eye and it breaks his resolve. It makes him look, just a glance. It doesn’t look any bigger than he left it. In fact, it looks slightly smaller. And through the crevice between the ground and mountains, where the river runs, he can see a dam.

They rebuilt it. He squints, to try and get a better look while he rides, but he’s so far away that it does nothing. It doesn’t matter, however, because his journey isn’t to go back there. His journey is toward the castle silhouette that looms in the distance where his future awaits him.

He veers his horse to the village and down the main street. In the fading light of the day, everything seems dim and dull. The buildings are empty, unkept. The people have clearly left long ago, searching for life elsewhere. It hurts Mark to see because the kingdom was always flourishing, so full of energy. This is not Havenfield.

“Look!” Renjun shouts.

It takes only a second to spot the figure, tearing through the main street up ahead. He spots the black cloak and the golden hair and he knows.

“Donghyuck!” His call echoes off the empty shells of the village, rivalling the thud of horse hooves against cobblestone. “Donghyuck, wait!”

Whether it was his voice, or even perhaps his presence—his own insides tug as he draws closer—Donghyuck pulls his horse to a stop and glances back.

Mark pushes his horse the extra distance, halting it as soon as he’s close. He takes in the surprise written on Donghyuck’s face, all round eyes and parted lips, and gives a slight smile. “Hi.”

“Wh—You said you weren’t coming back,” Donghyuck says, glancing to Renjun and Jeno and then back at Mark, as if he can’t quite believe his eyes.

“Let’s just say, I had a revelation.” He holds out his hand and, hesitantly, Donghyuck takes it. “I’m sorry. For everything.”

“Look, this is sweet and all, but don’t we have something that’s a tad bit more pressing?” Renjun puts in before Donghyuck can even respond. Although, his pinked cheeks are more than enough, Mark thinks.

“You’re right,” Donghyuck says, taking his hand back. Mark already misses his touch. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”

Mark shakes his head. “No idea.”

“Did you just plan on walking through the front door and asking for an audience?”

All right, no. He wasn’t. Not completely, anyway. Still, he coughs, trying to cover up some of the embarrassment that fills him because, really, he had no plan to begin with.

“Gods, what am I going to do with you?” Donghyuck sighs.

“Marry me?” Mark suggests before he can stop himself. If he wasn’t red before, he certainly was now. At least, now, he matches Donghyuck. “I—I just mean—”

“Later,” Renjun snaps. “How do we get inside?”

“Oh, um…” Donghyuck seems a little flustered, eyes looking everywhere but at Mark. Then, he clears his throat and tries to control his features. “Um, when I leave and come back, I usually go through a servant hall. They don’t expect me to use it. I should be able to lead you through it without an issue. After that, we are on our own. The corridors are crawling with Loup Garou. So is most of the kingdom, in fact. We should move before they find us.”

Once they start moving again, Jeno asks, “How often do you escape?”

“Often enough. When I can,” Donghyuck replies. “Sometimes, I can go to and fro without anyone noticing. Other times, I get caught.”

“What happens if you’re caught?”

“You don’t want to know.”

The way he says it, deep in his throat, has Mark gripping at the reins. He doesn’t even want to think of someone harming Donghyuck in any kind of way. It makes him want to rip out someone’s throat with his teeth.

“Stop here. Tie your horses. We go the rest of the way on foot,” Donghyuck says as he jumps down from the saddle.

They knot their horses’ reins to one of the buildings at the edge of the village. The walk to the castle is long enough and somewhat out in the open. All of them keep an eye out for any Loup Garou that could be roaming the area. At one point, Donghyuck shoves them behind a broken half-wall to keep out of site as a collection wander past. Mark keeps a hand over his mouth, desperately trying to suppress his own scent.

Once safe, they continue onward.

The castle itself is surrounded by a tall, stone wall that’s too high to climb over. It has the main gate—something they are steering clear of—and a few, smaller back gates. Donghyuck leads them around, carefully.

“How do we get past the guards?” Renjun mutters.

Donghyuck replies, “We aren’t going through that gate. We’re going through the grate.” He skirts close to the wall, keeping to the shadows, before coming to a stop. There, they find a steel barred grate. Mark goes to ask how he plans on getting them through when a horn blows. They still. “They’re calling everyone to the Great Hall.”

“Is that good or bad news?” asks Jeno.

“Depends,” Donghyuck says as he squats down to grip one of the bars. One by one, he lifts up and then tilts and the bar comes free to leave a decent sized hole for them all. “The corridors will be fairly empty, but if we want to get to Seunghwa, we may have a problem. He’ll have, basically, all his protection in one room.”

“Then, we have to make a distraction,” says Renjun.

Donghyuck gestures for them to crawl through. “Yes.”

Getting into the castle after sneaking under the wall is fairly easy from there. They follow Donghyuck across the yard and through a wooden door into one of the servant halls. Mark tries not to get caught up in all the familiar scents. Everything—the stone, the fire in the torches, even the dust—sets off memories of him as a child, racing through the halls with Donghyuck at his side.

When they emerge from the hall, Donghyuck checks back and forth before turning to them. “We need a plan.”

“You didn’t have one already?” Mark questions.

Donghyuck wrinkles his nose. “Not really. I just figured I would…Well, I don’t know. Now, you’re here and any plan I had would have to be adapted, anyway.”

Mark smiles. “You’re adorable.”

“Not the time,” Renjun hisses. “You said we needed a distraction.”

“Something to get most of the guards out of the room. I’ll go in through the main door. Mark, I think you should try to get to the balconies. You can access the room from there and no one will check those passageways.”

“Donghyuck?”

Mark’s sword is in his hand before he can even think. Following the line of his blade, he stops. He can hardly move as the newcomer bolts past him, past the swords in Mark and Jeno’s hands, and straight at Donghyuck to pull him into an embrace, so tight they nearly fall over.

“Thank the gods. You’re alive. I thought—Days! You’ve been gone days!”

Donghyuck looks to Mark, still wrapped in a hug. “Jaemin.”

While he knows it’s ridiculous, that Donghyuck and Jaemin aren’t truly together, his insides flip and his lip curls. A growl almost rips from his throat, but it never makes it out because arms are suddenly around his neck, yanking him closer. Fresh hay wafts into his nose. Calm and familiar.

“You,” Jaemin says in his ear, “I can’t believe it.” He leans back to hold Mark out at arm’s distance, hands clamped on his shoulders to take him in. “Donghyuck and I knew you weren’t dead. We knew it. Gods, I’m so happy to see you. I can’t believe you’re back!” He smirks at Donghyuck. “I suppose the wedding is off then?” This time, the growl escapes. Jaemin laughs. “Relax. He’s all yours. He saved himself for you, you know.”

“Jaemin!” Donghyuck squawks. “For all that is holy, stop talking.”

Jaemin grins. It’s the same boyish smile he possessed as a child and Mark can’t help but smile back. Unfortunately, then he remembers what they are meant to be doing.

Mark takes Jaemin’s shoulder to get his attention. “We need your help.”

“Anything,” he says, so quick and ready. “What do you need?”

“A distraction. We need to get enough Loup Garou out of the Great Hall in order for me to talk to my uncle.”

Jaemin frowns. “You’re taking the throne back?”

“I am.”

“Then, I’ll do it.”

Mark fights another smile. “Take Jeno and Renjun with you. Open the gate. That should be more than enough distraction. There are hunters coming from the forest. They’re here to help.”

“Of course.” Jaemin turns to Renjun and bows. “Well met.” His eyes flick to Jeno and he stills. He studies his face, the scar that resides there, and Mark hopes he won’t say something about it. Regardless of how Jeno pretends he’s come to terms with it, Mark still knows it’s a somewhat sensitive subject. But Jaemin just smiles, all teeth and glow, and takes Jeno’s hand to tug him along the corridor. “Definitely well met to you. Let’s go cause some trouble, shall we?”

Jeno casts Mark a confused look over his shoulder, but Mark can only laugh. It seems as though Jaemin has finally set his eye on someone and he isn’t going to get in the way of that. After all these years, it appears as though Jaemin is just as head-strong as he was as a child.

Renjun shakes his head and runs after them. Once they’ve disappeared about the corner, he glances to Donghyuck. There’s a moment, a brief moment, where they just stare at each other and Mark doesn’t want to leave him. Still, he’s going to have to.

So, he grabs Donghyuck’s wrist and tugs him close, only to kiss him. It’s hasty and messy and completely uncoordinated, but he has to do this just in case. Just in case.

When he leans back, Donghyuck’s eyes are hooded, a little glazed. Mark runs his fingers through his hair. “Be careful.”

Donghyuck nods, stepping back until he slips from Mark’s hold. “You, too.”

Mark waits for Donghyuck to vanish around the opposite corner from where Jaemin took Jeno and Renjun. Then, he takes the final corridor. It leads toward the back end of the Great Hall. Like Donghyuck had predicted, the halls were practically empty. The only time he hides himself is when he hears the faint thud of boots in a neighboring corridor, but they die out before ever drawing too close to him.

There are two doors that access the balconies of the Great Hall. Both are small and hidden behind tapestries. One for the left side and one for the right. Mark knows them well enough, having used them before to slip into Council meetings when he was told he was too young to attend.

Finding them isn’t as hard as he thought it would be. Being back in the castle has jogged his memories. He rushes through the halls with a sudden recollection of how to navigate the maze they create. Upon finding the tapestries, he slips behind one and pushes through the door. It clicks behind him, shutting him into shadows.

The only light comes from the top of the stairs where the balconies open up into the Great Hall. He can hear voices, faint and muffled, and as he makes his way up the steps, the words clear. His uncle’s voice grates at his ears as he comes to a stop, lowering himself so he won’t be seen.

“You still refuse your duty, Nayeon,” he says. Mark stills at the sound of his mother’s name. “If you wish to be the Alpha Female, you must continue to play the role. That means a marriage to a king and heirs to conceive.”

Peering over the half-wall, Mark’s eyes immediately fall on his mother. She stands in the center of the room, surrounded by Loup Garou and guards. She holds her chin high as he stares down her nose at Seunghwa, who has taken place on the throne that doesn’t belong to him. Even with him high on the dais, his mother appears far more intimidating than he would ever wish to be.

“I am not yours to play with, Seunghwa,” she states. “Neither is this kingdom.”

Mark watches as Seunghwa stands, jaw tight, and steps down toward his mother. He fears for the worst, his heart pounding in his ears. “This kingdom would do well if you only did as you were told.”

“This kingdom is dying and it isn’t my fault.”

The slap is so loud it echoes off the walls and his mother tumbles in a flurry of skirts to the floor. Mark feels the growl pull from his throat. Several of the guards start forward, but the Loup Garou crowd them back, growling and baring their teeth. The numbers seem unequal and Mark wonders how many guards fled when they realized they were about to be taken over.

Before Mark can do anything, however, the door to the Great Hall swings open. Donghyuck marches inside. He stumbles slightly, seeing Mark’s mother on the floor, but soon picks up the pace to help her stand.

“Ah, Donghyuck,” Seunghwa drawls. “Back again, are you? Clearly, you do not understand the rules I have laid out. I should have sent you away just to be done with you.”

Placing himself in front of Mark’s mother, Donghyuck says, “Such a shame.” The sarcasm sticks to his words like honey.

“Perhaps a harsher punishment is in order,” says Seunghwa. “Flogging apparently does nothing to whip you into obedience.”

Mark grips at his sword.

“You hurt him and I will make you pay,” Mark’s mother says, taking hold of Donghyuck’s hand. Behind her, Donghyuck’s own mother is kept back. She seems tired, yet desperate to get at her son.

“Now, Nayeon, you know my thoughts on this. Marry me, I will leave him alone. In fact, I will do one better than that,” he throws out his hands and grins, “I’ll marry him off and ship him out. He will never be near me again.”

“You can’t do that,” Donghyuck says. “I’m engaged and you can’t change that.”

Seunghwa laughs. “I’m the King. And, please, you have no intention of marrying that duke. You’re better off being sent to a whore house where you can do some actual good.”

“I’d rather be a whore than a tyrant,” Donghyuck spits. Quite literally. He shakes off Mark’s mother’s hold just to step forward and spit in Seunghwa’s face.

It happens so fast that Mark barely has time to process it. Seunghwa swings his arm up, backhanding Donghyuck across the face. Even as he falls, Donghyuck scrambles for his dagger, but Seunghwa pulls his sword and the blade ends up at Donghyuck’s throat before he can yank his dagger free.

Mark sees red.

He leaps over the side of the balcony, lands in a tumble, and pulls his sword free the moment he gets to his feet. His blade sparkles in the torch light as it points into Seunghwa’s back.

“Step away from him,” Mark growls.

Slowly, Seunghwa turns and his own sword dips away from Donghyuck. His eyes widen as he takes in Mark from head to toe. “Mark? You’re alive.”

“Were you hoping I would die? Lost in the forest?” Mark presses his sword forward, the tip digging into Seunghwa’s shoulder. “Step away from him.”

“How—” his mother starts. He tries not to look at her, he really does, but, gods, he’s missed her and the moment he sees the tears in her eyes, he starts to feel them in his own.

Donghyuck scrambles to his feet to gently push her back toward his own mother. The royal guards bracket her as if they know what’s to come.

“It’s over, Seunghwa,” Mark says. “You don’t get to do this anymore.”

“Here to take the throne, are you?” His gaze falls on the sword that still points at him. “Now, now, Mark. We don’t want to be hasty.”

His anger wants to tremble through him, but he steadies his hand. “Havenfield is no longer your responsibility.”

“And I would agree, if it weren’t for one little thing.” Seunghwa gestures around him, the Loup Garou inching forward with their teeth bared. They are just as terrifying as when Mark was a child. The only difference being, now, he can fight them. “They want me to be king.”

“Well, we don’t,” Donghyuck says as he takes a sword from one of the guards and moves closer. “Mark is the rightful heir. The crown is his. So, you either stand down, or you fight.”

Seunghwa steps back, away from Mark’s sword. There’s still a blade in his hand, glittering silver, but he doesn’t raise it. Instead, he uses it to gesture around the room. “Such violence. You wouldn’t want to harm anyone else, would you, Mark?”

His blood runs cold. An image of Seunghwa gazing down at him, telling him to run, with his father laying dead beside him is conjured up and he has to shake his head to get it out. No, he can’t allow himself to be swayed. His people need him and he will become the person his father wanted him to be.

“Your words mean nothing to me,” Mark says.

“But they will mean something to everyone else. Do they not know? My, my, Mark, you really have been secretive. Running away from the chaos you have caused. Why don’t you tell them just what you’ve done?”

“Mark?” Donghyuck looks at him with a furrowed brow. “What’s he talking about?”

“Yes, Mark, tell them the truth. Tell them,” he raises his sword, eyes as black as coal, “who killed the king.”

His mother inhales sharply and Mark feels for her. He feels for them all. “I did.”

“No,” Donghyuck breathes.

Moving closer, the guards shifting to keep her protected, his mother says, “Tell me it’s not true.”

“It is,” Mark admits, looking away. Shame runs down his spine.

“You see, he admits to it. He’s a murderer!”

“No!” he shouts, hand wavering as he glares at Seunghwa. “It was an accident. I never meant for it to happen!”

Seunghwa’s sword comes down, clanging against Mark’s. He isn’t ready and he stumbles, the expressions on his family’s face more crushing than the blow itself. “If it hadn’t been for you, he would still be alive. Do you deny it?”

Mark needs to fight. He knows he needs to. If he doesn’t, he could very well end up with a sword through his chest, but he dithers and he stills because, perhaps, this is what he deserved all along. Perhaps, he deserves to be punished.

He hopes his father isn’t watching this. Watching his pathetic excuse of a son trying to gather whatever is left of himself to keep some dignity. If he has any left, that is.

“I didn’t—I never meant to kill him,” Mark says, shuffling back as his uncle advances on him. The Loup Garou circle around him, claws out and ready to strike. “I’m not a murderer!”

“Always in trouble, aren’t you, Mark? Always running into it and expecting someone to save you. Well, no one will now. Not when they know what you’ve done.”

His foot catches and he falls back into one of the pillars. The sword in his hand is heavy, a deadweight. Mark knows he needs to lift it in order to protect himself, but his body is no longer listening.

No. No, he isn’t. He isn’t a murderer. It was all an accident. He didn’t mean to kill his father. It was completely out of his control.

Seunghwa raises his sword, high above his head. Mark can hear Donghyuck shout his name and, just before the sword comes down, a horn blares through the castle. They all still. Mark’s heart pounds.

The door to the Great Hall crashes open. “Your Majesty, the gates are being opened!”

“What? Why?”

“There’s an army on the horizon. Coming through the meadow,” says the guard. He’s in the royal armor and Mark wonders how much of this allegiance is through acceptance of Seunghwa being king, or if the guard is doing it through fear.

Seunghwa seethes. “Get those gates closed! Keep them out of my castle! GO!”

Not all of the Loup Garou and guards leave. Some keep back, sticking to Mark’s and Donghyuck’s mother, while others fan out around Seunghwa in a protective circle. Still, it’s better than before and Mark thinks, if things go well, he might make it through.

But first, he has to move.

“You think you can take my throne?” Seunghwa grits. “You think you can become king? You’re nothing. I am king. You cannot take it away from me!” The swing of his sword is wide and Mark has time to lift his own to block. He struggles against the weight, the pressure, Seunghwa puts on their blades as he moves in closer. “Look at this,” he whispers, eyes searching Mark’s face. “I’ve seen that expression before. It’s the same one I saw on your father before I threw him into the ravine.”

Mark tenses and the blades slide toward him, dangerously. “What?”

“That’s right,” Seunghwa leans in. “I killed the king.”

Something snaps. Gritting his teeth, Mark growls and shoves, sending Seunghwa fumbling back. He trips over his cape, gracelessly, and he barely has time to lift his sword before Mark uses the flat of his word to snap at his wrist. Seunghwa’s sword clatters against the stone flooring.

Sword at his throat, Seunghwa holds up his hands. “Now, let’s not be too quick, my boy—”

“Tell them,” Mark says. “Tell them the truth!”

“I don’t—”

Mark steps forward, the sword tip pressing into the side of Seunghwa’s neck. Everyone watches with bated breath. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Donghyuck waving the guards to move their mother’s back and away, out of harm’s way.

“Tell them so they can hear you.”

Eyes flitting to the blade, Seunghwa says, “Fine, all right. I did it.”

“Did what?”

Fire curls in the pit of Mark’s stomach. Everything screams at him to take his uncle down, to assert his place, to prove that everything he ever knew was a lie. All those years. All those years and Mark thought so horribly of himself and it wasn’t even his fault.

“I killed King Seunghoon.”

Everything springs into action. The royal guards aim for Seunghwa as the Lou Garou aim for them. It’s a flurry of swords and bodies. Mark lunges forward, blade swinging, but a Loup Garou comes from the side and barrels into him. They hit the floor, hard, and Mark struggles to get free. His sword falls from his hands, but it doesn’t matter. The Loup Garou above him has no need for weapons. He bares his teeth, eyes flashing, and raises a clawed hand to strike.

Mark anticipates the pain. It never comes. Above him, the Loup Garou howls and twists around. Donghyuck rams the end of his sword into the Loup Garou’s face and knocks him out. Hurriedly, he takes Mark’s hands and pulls him up.

Blood has spattered across Donghyuck’s face, his golden hair in disarray. Still, he looks beautiful, Mark thinks.

“Go,” Donghyuck shouts over the chaos around them as he shoves Mark’s sword into his hand. Over Donghyuck’s shoulder, he can see his mother snatching up a sword from a fallen guard and running it through an advancing Loup Garou. Queen or not, she’s the Alpha Female, and she will protect herself and her people. It makes Mark proud to be her son. “Mark, you need to go.”

“Go?”

Donghyuck points toward the door. “Your uncle, he’s left the Great Hall. To the right. Go!”

So, he does. Mark races from the room and follows Donghyuck’s direction. He nearly collides with another few guards as they fend off a collection of Loup Garou. Dodging a blade, he continues to run. He slides around the corner and there, at the end of the hall, is his uncle.

Seunghwa stops, as if he can sense him. For a moment, they stare at each other, gathering their breath, but before Mark can chase after him, Seunghwa shouts and several Loup Garou round the corner. Mark steps back, sword tight in his grasp. He goes to head back the other way, to find some way around to cut Seunghwa off from the other side, when two more Loup Garou appear.

They snarl, blood and saliva dripping from their teeth. Feral, Mark thinks. They’re utterly feral and there’s no way to control them. He has no idea how Seunghwa survived three years with them at his side. Probably promised them infinite food and shelter for protection, knowing that this day may come. Still, to work with the Loup Garou after knowing the blood that stained their hands. Then again, Seunghwa’s hands are hardly clean either.

He has no time to raise his sword. They leap at him, dragging him down. He screams when claws cut through his clothing and into his skin. Blood rolls down his back and his arms. With as much strength as he can gather, he pushes back. His teeth aren’t as sharp, but they still cut through flesh like his blade. Darkness overcomes him as he is buried under bodies. It’s a pile of howling pain and anguish and Mark fears that this is how he will die. With claws in his back and teeth at his throat.

Light shines through when one of the Loup Garou’s is yanked away, whimpering. Then another and another. Mark pants, gazing up to find Taeyong and Johnny. Johnny’s sword is tinged in red and Taeyong’s runs through the gut of a Loup Garou.

“You all right?” Johnny asks, helping him to his feet.

“I’m fine. Thank you.” His legs are shaky. “He’s got them all under his control. I haven’t been able to get close enough.”

Taeyong kicks the Loup Garou until it slides off his blade. “We will follow. Just keep your eye on him.”

Nodding, Mark sets off. Seunghwa has gotten a head start and tracking him down is difficult. The corridors are starting to smell like blood and sweat, overwhelming the iron and salty, ocean water that coats his uncle.

He runs through the halls with Johnny and Taeyong at his heels. Somewhere behind him, back in the Great Hall, Donghyuck and their mothers are fending for themselves. Jeno, Jaemin, and Renjun are probably out there fighting, as well. Mark needs to end this now before anyone else gets injured.

As he turns the corner, he spots Seunghwa. His running has slowed, his face flushed from overexertion. He’s older, not as built. He isn’t meant for war. He isn’t meant for anything, Mark thinks, bitterly.

The Entrance Hall has never felt so unwelcoming. It’s made from polished stone and glittering silver and everything is so pretty, when it isn’t covered in bodies and blood and the high-ceiling door isn’t swung open to reveal a war.

Seunghwa’s eyes flit around, searching for a way of escape, but there are guards blocking the stairs and a battle out the main door. Donghyuck, followed by several other guards, appear the opposite direction and Mark inhales a sigh of relief at seeing him alive and still standing.

“You have nowhere to go,” Mark says.

“Mark, please—”

“You lied to me,” he states, stepping closer. “You made me believe I killed my father when it was you all along. All those years—”

“I didn’t—”

Mark raises his sword. “You’re a murderer.”

“You wouldn’t kill me,” he says, hysteria sinking into his voice. He curls in on himself, nervous and shaking. “Not your own uncle.”

“You’re right,” Mark tells him. “I’m not like you. I’m not a liar or a murderer. I never was.”

The expression that crosses Seunghwa’s face is pure awe. An anxious chuckle escapes his lips. “I—Thank you. I’ll do anything. Anything at all.”

“Run.”

Seunghwa blinks. “What?”

“Run away,” he says as he lowers his sword, “and don’t come back.”

He must register the words, the same ones he told Mark all those years ago, because Seunghwa’s face falls. Gingerly, he shifts toward the door, stepping around bodies as he does.

“I…Of course,” Seunghwa says, slowly. “Whatever you wish, your majesty.”

In a flash, Seunghwa rips a sword from the floor and lunges. Mark’s arms rise, batting away the sword before it can make contact. Every move Seunghwa makes is desperate and wild. There’s no rhyme or reason to it and Mark struggles to keep up, to take it all without messing up.

He clashes his blade against Seunghwa and kicks him away, but his uncle never hits the ground. All he does is bounce back with a growl, so deep in his throat that Mark thinks it might hurt. It’s strike against strike and Mark can feel the sweat dripping down his neck and the way his hands get clammy. His grip is loosening and he trips backward over a body, his sword flying away from him.

The tip of the blade comes down and Mark rolls to the side. Scrambling, he reaches for his sword. As soon as his fingers curl around the tip, he swings around, driving the sword upward. The blade cuts through Seunghwa’s chest like butter, his own sword above his head. It falls from his grasp and Mark has to dodge in order to not be skewered by it.

Blood rolls down his sword in beads, wetting his fingers and his palms. His uncle’s blood stains his hands red.

A choking noise falls from Seunghwa’s lips as he reaches down with wide eyes to touch the sword impaled through him. “I—” His voice cracks, his words becoming nothing but gasping air.

Mark releases the sword, the lion’s head painted red. His heart thunders in his ears. Then, Seunghwa rocks back, tugging the sword free to throw it to the floor. The scream is bone rattling. His eyes meet Mark’s and, for a second, an apology is on his lips, hands lifting in the hopes to grab him, help him.

“I…regret…” Seunghwa gasps, “nothing.”

His eyes roll into the back of his head as his body collapses into a heap of limbs and cloth. Shaking, Mark closes in on him, searching for signs of life. There’s nothing.

“Mark?” Hands cup his jaw, tilting his head so he can meet Donghyuck’s gaze. “It’s okay.”

“I killed him,” he mutters.

“He was going to kill you,” says Donghyuck as he pulls Mark into him, burying his head in the crook of his neck. His scent envelopes Mark, calming him. “He was going to kill everyone. You did well, my alpha. You did so well.”

The words feel like a comfort. They warm him from the inside out. And when he nuzzles closer, Donghyuck takes him in his arms and kisses his shoulder.

Gently, he steps back and takes Mark’s hand in his own.

It’s then that he notices that the Loup Garou outside the door have stopped. One of them spots Seunghwa and raises his voice to howl. There’s silence. Everyone waits.

“If you wish to live, you will leave my kingdom!” Mark shouts at them, hoping his message will carry over the yard. “NOW!”

Another howl, followed by another somewhere in the kingdom. They circle around them before falling quiet. When Mark looks back out the door, he finds the Loup Garou making a run for it. He knows that, at some point, he will need to sort it all out, to figure out how to stop them once and for all. For now, however, it’s over.

“Come on,” Donghyuck says.

After sheathing his sword, Mark allows Donghyuck to lead him through the halls, past Taeyong and Johnny, past all the guards, and right back to where it all started. The Great Hall is in no better shape then the Entrance Hall. There are bodies and blood and the remanence of chaos. Among it all, is his mother. She peels herself from Donghyuck’s mother and runs to him. Her body is warm and familiar and Mark sinks into her.

“My boy,” she breathes. “My boy.”

“I’m here, Mama,” he says.

She takes his face in her hands and smiles. She’s a mess, much like the rest of them, but she glows. Strong and powerful. His mother will never look anything less. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too, Mama.”

“Excuse me.” A hand falls on his shoulder and Taeyong steps into view. “But I believe you have one final thing to do.”

Mark looks up the dais to the throne. It’s the only thing in the room untouched. It sits there, in all its glory. He remembers his father sitting in that throne and Mark thought he seemed invincible, untouchable. He thinks, if he were half the man his father was, that maybe he can command that sort of image, as well.

He isn’t his father. He never will be. But he can be the man his father expected. He will rise to the challenge, rise to the potential everyone saw in him when he couldn’t.

Every step is heavy and difficult. He feels the weight of responsibility and anxiety settle on his shoulders. Yet, as he reaches the throne and turns toward all the people staring up at him, he knows this journey isn’t one he will go on alone.

His mother smiles, so proud and loving. She sends him a nod and it’s more than enough for him to relax. Beside her, Taeyong and Johnny sheath their swords and welcome in the crowd at the door. It’s a mix of guards and his friends. Jeno looks ruffled up, but, otherwise, in full health. While Renjun’s temple is bleeding, he meets Mark’s eyes from across the room and smiles. Jaemin is there, as well, cradling his wrist and beaming like he hadn’t just been in a battle.

And there, in the very center, is Donghyuck. Golden and red and everything Mark could have hoped. Like his mother, Donghyuck gives him a nod.

Holding his breath, Mark reaches back to take the arms of the throne. He lowers himself into the cushions.

“Long live King Mark of Havenfield,” Donghyuck announces, voice ringing clear and true.

Everyone calls, “Long live King Mark.”

Donghyuck bends into a deep bow and, one by one, they all join him. When they rise, he smiles, stands, and rushes down the steps. Donghyuck squeaks when Mark yanks him into his arms and kisses him. He doesn’t care that there are people watching, or that it isn’t proper for a king. He’s too happy to care.

When he lets Donghyuck go, he presses his forehead against Donghyuck’s and mutters, “Thank you.”

“Well, I suppose I should thank you, too,” Donghyuck laughs.

They are both a mess, both in need of a bath and some sleep. The kingdom will have to be taken care of. Mark will need to sort through everything Seunghwa destroyed. He’ll need to rebuild Havenfield from the ground up. But he isn’t alone. And, he hopes with all his heart, that Taeyong is right. Even with everything that has happened, and everything he will still need to go through, he hopes his father is watching him somewhere, proud of him.

He’s about to dig his face into Donghyuck’s shoulder when a voice asks, “Your Majesty?”

“Doyoung,” Mark gasps. He takes in the man before him with cropped black hair and green robes. Despite the maturity that has taken over his features and the blood and grime on his face, Mark would know him anywhere. “You…You’re alive.”

“So are you,” says Doyoung.

“We found him wandering the halls,” Renjun says as he comes to a stop next to them.

“It’s good to have you back. Your father would be proud.”

Mark grins. “Thank you. Truly.”

“And,” Doyoung links his fingers together, “if you still needed an advisor, I would be happy to help.”

“That would be wonderful. Considering it’s been three years and I don’t know how much I remember,” Mark says and Doyoung smiles. “Help would be appreciated. Thank you.”

“We will make you a king in no time.”

Linking his arm through Mark’s, Donghyuck says, “I don’t believe you will have issues with that. He’s a natural.”

And Mark really hopes so. He thinks of all the lies he believed, all the tricks he fell for, all the pain he went through. All the things he learned and grew from. The past will hurt no matter how far he runs, and, finally—after all these years—he’s done running.

He will sort through the pain and push through. Because that’s what his father taught him.

One day, they will meet again and, by that day, he wishes to have become the king everyone tells him he can be. The king he _knows_ he can be.

“I love you, my son,” he hears in his ear. “Forever more.”

Mark closes his eyes and smiles.

_Love you, too, Papa._


	9. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ATTENTION: This is a double update. If you haven't read the last and final chapter, I would suggest you do that first!
> 
> Okay, so this was originally meant to be much longer, but then it turned out super short, which is, like, the exact opposite of what usually happens to me.   
> This is meant to tie up loose ends, but to also leave some questions open just in case I decide to do a sequel (I do have ideas for one, but I have so much on the go that I don't know when I'll ever get a chance to write it)
> 
> This project started off as just a simple fic, something short, just a copy of Lion King, and it is, theoretically, still that. Yet, somehow, it expanded into this. I think, if I were to go back and edit this, I would do so much more with it, but alas this is what we have haha I just want to thank everyone again for all your support! <3 
> 
> Stay safe and I hope you enjoy :)

_One year later…_

Mark groans, his ribs aching and his legs struggling to hold him up. He digs the tip of his sword into the stone floor to give himself something to lean on as he takes in the scene before him.

The golden walls of the Iarmos Great Hall should be warm and inviting, yet they are cold and crumbling. Mark has no idea how it’s still standing after all these years of neglect. He wonders what Donghyuck sees when he looks at this room, if he sees the destruction of a memory or if he sees the way it used to be before everything happened and he was forced to leave.

The door opens and Jeno stumbles in. Blood covers his face and drips down his arm and onto the floor. Across the room, Jaemin makes a noise in the back of his throat, something akin to a whine, and runs to him, throwing his arms around his shoulders and burying his face in Jeno’s shoulder.

Renjun is on the floor with his dagger still clutched in his hand. When Lucas, one of the royal Iarmos guards, wanders over to hold out his hands, Renjun takes them. Together, they get him back on his feet.

The bodies strewn across the room make Mark’s stomach churn. He’s seen a battle before. He’s been in one. But it doesn’t make it any less horrifying. All those people who fought with them or against them are injured or dead. Mark feels for them and their families.

Luckily, the worst is over and they can breathe again. All thanks to Donghyuck, who stands over the body of the Loup Garou queen with his sword dripping red. He’s quiet, his shoulders rising and falling as he tries to calm himself, to breathe steadily. When he turns, Mark tries to step forward, but his leg gives out.

Before he can fall, Donghyuck leaps over, catching him and moving him toward a pillar to lean against. His cheeks are flushed, his hair a mess. The armor they dressed him in is slightly dented and scratched, but still fine, otherwise. It gives him a sense of relief.

“Are you all right?” Mark asks, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Donghyuck’s ear. “The baby—”

“Fine. All fine,” Donghyuck whispers. “You’re hurt.”

“Nothing that won’t heal in time.” Wrapping an arm around Donghyuck’s shoulders, he pulls him into a hug. “I’m proud of you, my love.”

Arms wind around his waist. “Thank you.”

“Now, go take what’s yours.”

Donghyuck steps away and glances at the throne. Unlike Mark’s, after his uncle took over, the throne is falling apart. The gold is nicked, chunks missing or simply have crumbled due to age and misuse. The seat, however, is still intact. It sits at the peak of the dais with light shining down on it through the cracks made in the walls and ceiling.

Stepping carefully, Donghyuck makes his way to it. He sheathes his sword, places a hand on his stomach, and ascends the staircase. Pride fills Mark from deep in his core. It soars out of him, uncontrollable. Everything Donghyuck has gone through has led to this moment. The moment he could finally take back his throne, his kingdom.

Much like Mark, he will need to rebuild, to recreate, but Donghyuck has never feared a challenge. This has been his dream and his nightmare. Now, he will reclaim his rightful place as heir and no one will ever be able to take that from him again.

Reaching the throne, Donghyuck turns. He catches Mark’s eye and smiles before lowering himself into the seat.

Mark bows. A king to a king. Husband to husband. It doesn’t matter who whispers about protocol, about what is right or wrong. Mark will bow to Donghyuck because it is right.

“Long live King Donghyuck of Havenfield,” Mark says, “and Iarmos.”

Jaemin, Jeno, Renjun, and Lucas echo him. And it may only be the five of them to witness it, but they are the only people who matter. Donghyuck beams when they stand and he glows gold like his throne, like his castle, like his kingdom.

Mark has never had a need for gold, he thinks. Even when he was younger, he never thought much of it. That is, until he met Donghyuck. Now, he can’t imagine a life without it.

And he would never wish to.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to talk to me on  
> [CuriousCat](https://curiouscat.me/DiamantNoir)  
> And I'm @dooly_noted on Twitter (Though I don't post much. I'll probably just use it to update when things will be updated)
> 
> Tuesdays I'll be updating To Catch a Pitch  
> Thursdays I'll be updating this.


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